Violet Zimmerman gave a perfunctory reply and hurried out of Joseph Lancaster's place, clutching the palm-sized tape recorder, stumbling all the way back.
Seeing his wife in such a panic, Daxton Lancaster frowned slightly.
"Why are you back so soon?"
He had specifically told them to add more liquor to the Alcohol Fermented Meatballs. His younger brother Joseph had a low tolerance; once he was tipsy his willpower would weaken, and then, if his wife put in a bit of effort, she would definitely be able to achieve their goal.
"Daxton, I… I can't do it." Violet stood at the bedroom door, her hand that was holding the recorder rubbing it over and over—that was her nervousness.
Daxton rose from the sofa and went over, grasping Violet's wrist and pulling her to the sofa.
Violet followed him and sat down mechanically, her hand that held the recorder still anxiously fumbling with it.
