The assistant froze for a moment, mouth agape in astonishment.
He said nothing, only seriously replied, "I'll assign more personnel."
"Mm." Charles nodded.
Charles remembered that as he helped Jasmine Yale into the cabin, Spencer Childe fired several more shots towards Sylvan Cheney.
He had no idea where those shots landed.
But when the boat capsized, he could no longer see Sylvan Cheney…
Sylvan was a good swimmer, but even the best swimming skills were no match for the torrential river and severe injuries.
Charles felt utterly suffocated; he treated Sylvan like a brother, and Sylvan's accident was like losing a part of himself.
His chest felt tight, and he could hardly catch his breath.
Charles gripped the railing to prevent himself from collapsing.
The assistant noticed Charles's pale face and was frightened, "Mr. Mcintosh, let me help you inside to rest for a while. You don't look well, it's too cold outside. Your hands are all freezing, I'll pour you a cup of hot tea."
