A barrage of questions left Viola Harris overwhelmed.
Staring at the elderly shaking her arm vigorously, Viola couldn't help but be scared and blurted out subconsciously, "Please let go of me first, and let's talk it out properly..."
Old Master Collins, holding Emily Collins's arm, said in an eerily calm voice, "Wife, don't rush, ask slowly. If it is, it is; if not, then it's not—panicking won't help."
Emily Collins wouldn't listen to him, clenching onto Viola Harris's arm persistently.
"Tell Grandma, are you... are you..."
Her choking voice couldn't finish the sentence.
Viola didn't yet understand what exactly had the old lady so agitated, but she honestly said, "This necklace is not mine, Grandma—"
"What did you say?" Emily Collins's eager gaze froze for a moment, interrupting Viola Harris hastily, "It's not yours, then where did you get it from?"
