Their car had only been gone for a few minutes when Rong Shaoze's flashy Lamborghini screeched to a stop.
As he stepped out of the car door, the remaining journalists, spotting him, swarmed like flies to food.
"Mr. Rong, have you come to pick up your wife?"
"Mr. Rong, is what your wife said today true, that she really fell down by accident?"
"Mr. Rong, why didn't you attend the event with your wife? Are you afraid you can't account to the public, or is it as your wife said, that she didn't let you come?"
...
Facing the onslaught of journalists, Rong Shaoze's expression was cold, his gaze sharp.
He strode forward without care for whether anyone was in front of him.
His presence was so imposing that even the journalists, keen on stopping him, had no choice but to step back and make way.
Entering the scene, it was empty; not a single person remained.
A journalist whispered, "Mr. Rong, are you looking for your wife? She got into a car and left a few minutes ago."
Gone...
