"Instead of worrying about the tacit understanding between Mr. King and Mrs. King, you should be more concerned about how many years of prison food you'll have to eat in the future," the man's extremely cold voice rang out from the bedroom door.
Daniel Trent couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Mason King emerging from his bedroom. He collapsed in place, stunned: "You..."
Mason King didn't look at him but fixed his gaze on Suzanne Trent after coming out.
The petite woman, who had been busy packing in the bedroom just now, was holding a safety hammer in one hand and a high-heeled shoe in the other, her hair messy. She seemed calm but was actually breathing faster, as if preparing to subdue a healthy man. Her fierce expression didn't waver, strands of hair clinging to her neck. It was a scene of chaos and embarrassment, in stark contrast to the intimate moments they'd shared earlier.
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