A helicopter emblazoned with the Bailey's insignia stirred up a mighty wind as it touched down on an open area.
A sniper jumped out of the aircraft, rifle in hand, to greet his master.
Wayne Bailey descended from the aircraft, dressed in an army green mid-length coat and brown boots, his handsome appearance reminiscent of a man who had just stepped out of a royal portrait.
His jade green eyes sparkled with a cold, wild madness, like a man who was king.
The fierce wind dramatically lifted the hem of his coat. He confidently stepped onto the broken glass, approaching through the arched window under the Roman columns.
Cindy Sinclair's heart squeezed at the sight, almost spurring her to call out.
Anna Jadwin furrowed her eyebrows—how did he know she was here?
A thin, arrogant smirk tugged at Wayne's lips as he was followed by a few burly attendants.
The Sinclair's bodyguards, upon recognizing Mr. Bailey, were too terrified to move.
