"Madam, I'm fine, but sir, he... uh..."
Vincent couldn't hold on any longer, and his foot slipped, causing him to kneel on one knee on the ground.
"Vincent!" Ruth Wills quickly supported him, her hand touching his waist. Feeling a wetness, she paused, raised her hand to look, and turned pale at the sight of fresh blood on her palm.
"My God, Vincent, you're injured? What exactly happened?!"
Vincent shook his head, "I'm fine, sir is also..."
Also...
Ruth was stunned for a moment and looked up at her eldest son standing beside him, her panicked eyes scanning him.
Dressed in a pristine white suit, impeccable and spotless.
Vincent was in a black suit—if you didn't look carefully, you wouldn't notice, but white should be obvious...
Suddenly, Ruth's eyes narrowed sharply as her gaze landed on Joel Russo's hand. Blood was flowing from his sleeve, trickling down the back of his hand and dripping onto the floor.
"Oh my God..."
