"So?" Wayne Bailey rested his hands on the armrests of the wheelchair, leaning dangerously close, "You think I'd be afraid of him?"
Charles Harrington laughed. "I'm just telling you to be on guard."
"..."
"By the way, there's another important thing, probably unknown to you all."
"I'm not interested." Wayne Bailey snorted coldly, feeling that if he listened to a few more words, he would not be able to resist beating him to death.
"Oh?" Charles raised his eyebrows, "You're not interested in the origin of Scarlett's illness?"
Wayne Bailey gripped Charles Harrington's collar again: "What origin?"
"I'm hungry, so hungry I don't even have the strength to talk. Let me have a feast first," Charles Harrington demanded.
Wayne Bailey threatened in a low voice, "If you dare play dumb with me, I'll bury you straight into the ground."
"Let him eat first," Anna Jadwin spoke up, her discomfort palpable at the sound of Charles Harrington's feeble voice.
