Norton Foster turned his head, his gaze gloomy and uncertain as he stared at Trenton Smith for a long time. Though his features were naturally delicate, at this moment they appeared even more sinister, like Satan himself emerging from hell to claim a soul.
Trenton stared back at him, his face expressionless.
"I called you last night, why didn't you pick up?"
Trenton glanced at him, his gaze sweeping over Norris Moore standing by the door. Norris pressed her lips together and slightly averted her face.
"Why should I answer your inexplicable calls late at night when I'm being intimate with my own woman?" Trenton scoffed coldly. "Norton Foster, if you can't control your woman, don't come to me and make a scene. Instead of bothering me, you should go find Amelia; she might have already left the country in a bit."
