Looking at his watch, he got up and spoke to Nicole, “I have something to attend to, so I’ll leave first. If you need anything, just call Claus.” He pointed to the young man at the counter, and only then did Nicole realize that he was called Claus. She nodded.
“Okay.” She then took out the exercises Mr. Louis gave her and started to twirl her pen as she worked on them. Seeing that she was already in her groove, Jared did not linger and immediately left with Max.
Max drove the car and took a glance at Jared, who was resting in the backseat with his eyes closed. The man’s face was half-hidden under the dim light, faintly revealing a cold and sharp outline. The expression on his face grew colder and colder, and the whole person looked like a lifeless ice sculpture. Every time he was about to meet those familiar high houses, Jared would always be like this. As Max thought about it, he could only sigh softly. He only hoped that those people would stop provoking Jared, or else they would pay a horrible price for it.
As the black car sped across the wide roads of San Joto, the body line of the car looked extremely smooth, as if it was a charging, angry lion. This location was already close to the city center, and many noticed the car as an incredulous look appeared in their eyes. ‘Isn’t this the car of that person? He’s already back in San Joto?’ they wondered. Thinking of what he had done before, all of them shuddered.
It seemed like an upheaval was about to take place in San Joto.
The Rogers family mansion.
“Have the invitations been sent out on time!” A sixty-something-year-old man was standing in the middle of the manor as he asked a middle-aged man coldly.
“Yes, all of them have been sent out. Even Mr. Johnston, who had just returned to San Joto, is not left out. Don’t worry, Father.” When he mentioned Jared, a look of disdain appeared in the middle-aged man’s eyes.
That did not escape Mr. Rogers Sr.'s notice as his somewhat muddled eyes lit up, and he took up his walking stick and slammed it against the middle-aged man’s leg. With that hit, Jallen grunted as his legs felt weak, and he knelt on the ground. He dared not fight back against the punishment his father had meted out but instead only looked at the latter in confusion as he secretly clenched his fist. “Father, why are you punishing me?” He had done everything the old man had asked him to.
‘This old coot is damnably difficult to please,’ he thought. A gloom then swept across Jallen’s eyes.
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