His gaze was bone-chillingly cold, like an icy blade in the heart of winter, sweeping across one's body and leaving the blood vessels feeling frigid.
"Darling, he even said he's not bad looking, that I wouldn't be losing out if I went with him." Summer Sutton's voice echoed again in the corridor.
Her voice was always pleasing to the ear, but due to the drugs, it was now soft and sweet, almost enough to melt one's bones just by hearing it.
Watt Bennet's expression froze, his face beneath the mask turning into an iceberg.
Summer Sutton had called him "darling" several times, yet he never corrected her even once.
One arm hooked around her slender waist, his voice was faint, "Baby, he's blind, we shouldn't follow him blindly."
His sharp tongue, much like Adrian Walyon's, was tough for most people to endure.
He was attacking the man's appearance.
"Who are you talking about?" The young man, provoked by him, wanted to rush over and punch him.
