"What?" I doubted if I was in a dream once again.
How long had it been since Hendrix spoke to me in a tone like this?
Taking a deep breath, Hendrix stood up straight. Lowering his head, he said coldly, "The email from last night."
I instantly held my breath, looking at him in confusion. For a moment, I was caught in selfblame.
He should have known how much risk I had to take to get that information. Yet he was questioning me now as if I had fooled him. What was the meaning of this?
Could it be that my trust in him during this period of time was simply me flattering myself?
"What email?" Jordan suddenly came from the living room with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Drinking half of the alcohol, he put his other hand on my shoulder without hesitation, saying casually, "Mind if I listened too?"
I knew I was in the wrong, so I couldn't say a word.
Hendrix couldn't suppress his anger, and his words were sarcastic. "I don't know what tricks both of you are playing, but I'm not interested in getting involved. This is the first and last time you'll be testing me with fake news."
How could it be fake news?
I looked at Jordan in shock, and the corners of his mouth curled into a confident smile. The smile on his face was faint, but it could not hide his arrogance. It was clear that he was not surprised by this outcome.
That meant that the information I stole a night ago was likely a trap placed by Jordan. His purpose was to find out how much contact I still had with Hendrix.
How devious he was.
He deliberately exposed the conversation, feigned nervousness, then stole the computer. I had been acting all this while. I had not expected him to play me instead.
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