Thomas Shannon opened the bedroom door with one hand. "What is it?"
"Young Master, Mister is looking for you." Charlie River, a mobile phone in his hand, handed it to him.
Thomas Shannon stepped out of the bedroom, closed the door behind him, and walked towards the study room with the mobile phone.
Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, his handsome face was bathed in a sacred glow from the sunshine outside the window. It was dazzlingly unapproachable.
"Father, you were looking for me?"
"Have you encountered any troubles recently?" James Shannon's authoritative voice came from the other end of the telephone.
Thomas Shannon turned back to his desk. He picked up a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and reached for his lighter. "What kind of trouble could I possibly encounter?"
"What happened with Frank Mitchell?"
SNAP.
