Garaine stood there like a statue, unable to believe her ears. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. She felt like her feet were glued to the floor.

Is it really Mr. Turner?

She had an unexplainable urge to cross-check if she could really trust her senses. Her heart almost stopped beating when she saw Weylin standing on the other side of the door through the peephole. The tears that were held back by sheer willpower escaped her eyes before rolling down her cheeks. A sudden hot flush spread from all from her neck to her cheeks.

It's really Weylin Turner!

“Mr. Turner…” She breathed out, touching the door with her palm, as a wave of relief washed over her.

Though she confidently said she was sure he wasn’t dead, she wasn’t very certain of her words. Because that’s how the mafia works. Life and death in that world were completely uncertain. She couldn’t do anything if something really happened to her husband when he disappeared without a trace.

“Mrs. Turner, please open the door!” Weyli