Chapitre 162: The hyenas

Helen was staring at Risa. Unmoving. Her anger was reflected on her face; and if looks could kill, Risa would have died multiple times from the thousands of imaginary daggers that Helen sent over.

The air was cold around her.

Helen was pouted and her fingers were clenched deep into her skin; making her knuckles turned white.

The few people who sat next to her were oblivious of the change in the young lady.

A young man clad in dark blue suits who sat next to her, suddenly placed his palm over her hand, and gave a light squeeze. The light blue square handkerchief in his jacket pocket left a little creases as he leaned closer.

He brought his face down and then whispered to her ear, "Don't get riled up easily. We are here to negotiate, my dear wifey," he kept whispering more words to her, and Risa could see gradually Helen regained her self-control.