Ivana Bennett furrowed her brows, raising her hand to smash the cup onto the table.
A palm reached over and caught the cup with its palm before she could smash it onto the table.
It was a fair, jade-like palm—Phoebe's palm.
Ivana turned to look at him.
Phoebe closed his fingers, pinching the empty cup in her hand.
"Ivana, stop messing around!"
"Messing?" Ivana suddenly stood up, and the chair behind her slid over, scraping the floor with a sharp noise, "You think just by taking me aboard you can take me away? Phoebe, I'm telling you, you couldn't do it five years ago, and you still can't do it now!"
Standing up, bending down to pick up the fallen napkin from the floor, Phoebe casually put the napkin on the table.
"In this world, there is nothing I can't achieve."
"Alright!" Ivana crossed her arms, "I'll be watching!"
Phoebe reached for a tissue, handing it to her, "Wipe the milk off your hand."
