"Young Master, we are back." In the sunny afternoon at Sunshine Airport stood a tall, ramrod-straight man wearing golden glasses. He had a head of red hair, with gray eyes that seemed to pierce into one's soul. Dressed in a black bespoke suit that clung to his well-built frame, he painted an attractive figure, with a hint of iciness between his brows and a face so similar to Aysel's.
A hum escaped Aaron's throat as he looked around with his cold eyes, which still held a rush of emotion. They were a mix of sadness, relief, happiness, shock, and finally, determination.
He was back.
The assistant behind him gazed at him with faint admiration the entire time.
Master Vaughn Swift's children were all exceptional—except for that shrew, of course.
