As Whitney looked at the blood-red mist lingering in the air, his face was as cold as ice. He let out a faint snort and said, "If it weren't for the fact that Monroe and Jenny are expecting me at home, you wouldn't get the chance to die so easily."
With this, Whitney sat back down in his chair. Kenson stood beside him like a loyal bodyguard, respectful and deferential.
Nick stood pale-faced in front of Whitney, his heart consumed by overwhelming fear.
Whitney simply sat there, staring at him coldly without saying a word. Yet, Nick's entire body trembled uncontrollably.
In front of Whitney, he felt like nothing more than a lowly ant. Even though his grandson had just been killed by Whitney, he didn't dare utter a single word of protest. His heart was completely overtaken by terror.
But
