As Sheila walked out of the apartment, her long skirt swept the floor in a grand, benevolent style, her heels clicked sharply on the floor —steady, calculated and her expression radiating like the sunset.
Arthur sat in his car, his gaze fixated on her as she walked, but however, his expression still remained neutral, unreadable.
He pulled the collar of his shirt softly, then turned to his driver, “Bring the lady over to the car,” he ordered grimly, his eyes not blinking away from her.
“Yes, sir.” The driver responded and made an attempt to open the car door but Arthur stopped him.
“One more thing,” he glanced over at the driver, his lips curving into a dark, ominous smirk.
“Don’t return back here without her,” Arthur's expression narrowed..
“Unless you've prepared a good replacement
