"Take it!" Gabrielle said while forcing the money into my hand.
I returned it to her. "I really don't need it."
"Take it!"
"I really don't need it."
As we pushed the money back and forth, a middle-aged woman suddenly interrupted, "What are you two doing?"
I turned around and saw a well-dressed, elegant-looking middle-aged woman approaching quickly, her gaze harsh and critical.
Upon seeing her, Gabrielle gasped in surprise. "Mom?"
Mom? This woman was her mother?
I looked carefully and could see some resemblance between them. Both had oval faces, delicate eyebrows, and small mouths.
"Mom, what are you doing here? I told you I want to be independent. I don't need you to take care of me, and I don't want you to find me. Why did you come?"
The woman immediately had an angry and fierce expression. "How can I not care about you? If I don't care, you'll end up living in this filthy building, associating with these unsavory men."
Her usage of the words "filthy building" left me with no room to argue.
This building truly had become a mess thanks to the gang of lowlifes hanging around downstairs, making it particularly unsuitable for a young woman to live in.
But when she mentioned unsavory men, surely she wasn't referring to me, right?
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