Phoebe Lockwood noticed his gaze, and a nasty idea began to form. She deftly sent everyone else away, leaving only the man with the gold-rimmed glasses.
"Boss Lynch, what are you looking at so intently?"
"Haha..." Boss Lynch laughed awkwardly. "It's a bit embarrassing to say, but my wife passed away two years ago. I think about her all the time. That young lady over there... she looks exactly like my wife did when she was young. It pains my heart to see her."
'Heh, as if that's the truth.'
Phoebe Lockwood sneered inwardly. This old lecher was notoriously promiscuous. He kept countless mistresses, which drove his wife into a deep depression that led to her death two years ago.
She had seen photos of his wife. The woman was hideous and couldn't compare to Claire Sinclair at all.
'That old bastard is definitely after that vixen face of hers.'
'That damn bitch, Claire Sinclair, daring to steal my spotlight. I'm not going to let her get away with this!'
