Charles McIntosh nodded, "I'll be there in a moment."
Sylvan Cheney fell into deep thought.
Cerebral congestion, suddenly waking up, the likelihood of amnesia is high, but he didn't know whether it would be temporary or permanent.
Sylvan Cheney furrowed his brow tightly and threw off the covers to get out of bed.
His head still throbbed slightly, and the pain in his chest hadn't subsided.
"Mr. Cheney, please don't go, I'll make the trip and report back truthfully," Charles McIntosh quickly said.
"Prepare the car," Sylvan Cheney ordered and walked into the dressing room.
"..." Charles was helpless.
Sylvan Cheney quickly changed into a white shirt, with two buttons at the collar undone, his complexion was pale, but it couldn't hide his inherent aura.
Precious, stern.
As he left, he happened to run into Joan Harry.
"Mr. Cheney, are you going out? It's very hot outside, can I do anything for you?" Joan Harry quickly said.
