"Dad, you're wronging me here. To put it bluntly, it's the wicked first to complain. I knew about Fristy Davis's good deeds without even entering the house. Not to mention you, I'm also clear about my brother's affairs. Do you really want me to say it out loud? I advise you to stop before Mum and my brother find out, otherwise..."
Dylan Young smiled without saying anything. His face didn't show any threat, but to Mr. Young, it was enough to make him shiver.
"You... stop talking nonsense. I stand upright, unafraid of a slanting shadow. I... I haven't done anything."
Mrs. Young didn't listen to him. Her face was extremely cold. "Dylan, tell me clearly, what good deeds have he done?"
Dylan glanced at Mr. Young, whose forehead was already covered in sweat.
"I think it's better for my dad to tell you himself."
