Elijah Schmidt's piercing words swept over, and his tone was suppressed, his face carrying a trace of anger.
Walter Schmidt glanced at the crowd in the hall, raised an eyebrow, and said in a deep voice, "What do you want to ask?"
He knew that his father wasn't asking about that, his thin lips hooking up coldly as he waited for him to speak.
"Just now, Minnie Sutton's father called, saying she got drunk last night, and you went to the bar to pick her up. You clearly carried her down to the lobby, but then you had the bodyguard take her back to the Presidential Residence! Did this happen!?" Elijah Schmidt stood up and walked over, step by step, looking up intently at his son's face.
Walter Schmidt frowned, expressionless: "Is it just because of this?"
