Drake Trent stiffened his neck, veins bulging like cords on his flushed skin. He glared at Alvin Morgan as if he were his father's killer.
Alvin Morgan continued, "If you don't believe me, have a Martial Healer your family trusts conduct an examination. Aurora, let him go."
Dawn Miles flicked her fingers, and the Power Domain surrounding him dissipated, its Power draining away like oil from a punctured drum.
Drake Trent got to his feet again and stormed out, his voice a roar. "August Trent, go get Mr. Trent! Now—"
Outside, August Trent flinched and quickly pulled out his phone to make a call.
Two hours later, the autopsy results came back, more or less confirming what Ronan Warner had said. Drake Trent's face was ashen as he glared at the Martial Healer, Mr. Trent.
"Are you sure my father was poisoned and died around noon?"
Mr. Trent met his gaze and asked hesitantly, "Then what is your opinion, Young Master?"
