So, facing Victoria Carter's request, his reluctance was understandable. After all, Marilyn Carter was ruthless, and one misstep could lead to his death with no place for his corpse.
Victoria Carter was feeling increasingly uncomfortable, her feet as if stepping on cotton, and the room, which was heavily decorated in an ethnic style, seemed to transform into the heavenly palaces at this moment, surrounded by mist and exquisite pavilions and towers, a sight so beautiful it was beyond words, with muscular men in black leather armor steadily shuttling back and forth, holding trays in their hands.
Victoria Carter shook her head, knowing she was experiencing drug withdrawal. What kind of messy things were appearing before her now?
