"We are in a very good mood today, so we were not planning on beating you. But it is such a pity, your little brother just transferred some money and told us we have to be extremely heavy-handed today."
Hearing that familiar title, Lucien Sinclair raised his head, his gaze no longer holding a shred of warmth, and his pupils strained with red streaks like a wild wolf driven to an absolute dead end.
"Oh, look at his eyes. I wonder if they look just like his mother's eyes right before she died?"
