Chapter 184: The Type of Woman Sylvia Was

"…Let's talk a while later," Garcia replied to Henry's question about the person who murdered his mother.

"Let's talk now," Henry said without a hint of emotion whatsoever.

The eyes of the detective drifted towards Cynthia and lingered a second longer than he had initially meant, he wondered about the riddle that was Cynthia Evans and her complicated life.

Cynthia took the detective's lingering gaze as a silent request for her intervention, "...Henry, let's get out first, at least…at least wash your face,"

"My face is fine just the way it is," Henry said as he wiped it with his sleeve and made his way out, he ended up pushing George's shoulder with his shoulder since George didn't bother to give him enough way to pass.

None of the two men made eye contact as George's eyes were glued to his wife. Cynthia avoided looking at her husband as she grasped his hand. Guilt attacked her once he held on to hers tenderly.