Caleb Baker glanced at his phone screen.
After a moment, he saw another message from Edward Brown: "Speaking seriously, Benjamin Xavier found something. The commission order from Ai Trade Bureau is made by your scoundrel of a nephew who might be coming to Chelsea. Aren't you going to deal with him?"
Caleb Baker, seemingly indifferent, didn't show any apparent emotional reaction: "Mind your language."
Edward Brown: "You're pretty calm. If you die, who's going to pay back the 63677.41 million research funding debt to me?"
Looking at this string of numbers, Caleb Baker raised his eyebrows slightly, thinking that Edward Brown was sticking to the letter of the law, insisting on the exact amount down to the decimal point.
Edward Brown: "Mr. Baker, with a knife hanging around your neck, stop acting cool and just return to take over the family business, who would dare to touch you then?"
