Carson Flores slept comfortably until the morning, got up, finished his personal grooming, and had breakfast.
"I'm going out for a stroll to digest my food."
Carson left the villa before he took out his cell phone and powered it on.
There were four missed calls, all from the same number, at four o'clock in the morning, four-thirty, eight-thirty, and nine.
Carson smiled. This must be the Vasquez Family, right?
Unable to find my whereabouts, they resorted to calling me?
The red Ferrari I was driving, though eye-catching, was not uncommon in Seashore. I had covered up the license plate, so they had no way to start searching.
As for digging up my background?
I hardly have any background to dig up. Samantha Tate was by my side, and I didn't even know where Shirley Miller had gone—if they could find any of that, it would be weird.
As long as I don't get mixed up with the Frost Family, I'm a free-moving, ruthless Great Grandmaster at this moment—who am I to fear?
