The black Cayenne slowly stopped beside the black sedan, and Iris Harris turned her head to look at him, "Is your friend here to see you?"
Brandan Hyde glanced at the license plate and knew who it was. His face looked a bit upset, and he shook his head, "My dad."
Iris was slightly stunned, her slender eyebrows furrowed slightly, but she said nothing, only pursed her lips gently.
The large and quiet villa was already bustling with people.
Strange servants were busily moving a bunch of things into the hall, and Charles Hyde, holding Emily Dormer's hand, was walking downstairs, "The guest room faces the sun and looks good; you can stay there."
"Okay, thank you, Uncle Hyde."
Emily Dormer was obedient and compliant.
Brandan Hyde walked into the hall, looking at the chaotic home, the nerves at his temples pulsed a few times, and his face turned cold.
