In front of her car, a woman in a white down jacket lay prone; her face obscured by disheveled hair, she appeared incredibly vulnerable. Norris stepped out of her car, but the woman made no movement.
Norris looked at her and felt a pang of fear in her heart. Although she was not driving fast at the time, it was hard to tell if she hit the woman in a critical spot, like the head.
She quickly approached and helped lift the woman's upper body off the ground, frantically brushing away the messy hair that covered her face.
As the woman's snow-white, exquisite face emerged before Norris, she paused in shock.
Sherry White? She had collided with Sherry White?
But what was she doing in London?
As Norris's mind scrambled with these questions, the frail Sherry slowly opened her eyes.
Perhaps due to her injury, Norris thought her complexion extremely pallid. The eyes that were normally as gentle as a deer's seemed cruelly transparent and ice-cold against her pale skin.
