When Sylvan Cheney stepped out of the reception room, everyone saw that their boss's face was dark, darker than the sky before a storm.
At this time, no one would dare to stir things further.
Very few people could make the boss so angry.
"Mr. Cheney, you're bleeding. Shall I call a doctor?" Charles McIntosh quickly approached.
"No need, I'm stepping out for a bit."
Sylvan wiped away the blood with a wet napkin and went downstairs towards the garage.
"Mr. Cheney, about Teagan Cheney..."
"Don't ever let him step foot in the Cheney Family corporation again!"
"Yes, sir."
The snow kept falling outside, and the sky was gloomy. The road ahead was soaking wet.
Sylvan drove his car out of the garage. At the intersection, he suddenly didn't know which direction to head in.
The Rolls-Royce came to a stop on the side of the road again.
He lit a cigarette, smoke cloaking his stern face.
