Hearing the heart-wrenching cries of the woman, Nathan Moore suddenly turned around and strode back, grabbing Titus Zane's hand and walking towards the door together.
"Let go of my hand!" The voice of Samuel Zane rose on the stairs, quite abrupt, without deliberately raising his voice, but carried an undeniable authority.
Nathan Moore had no choice but to stop, pulling Titus Zane to turn around with him, and looked up at the imposing elderly man who towered above them.
"I'm sorry, Grandpa, I need to take my wife back home."
"Hmph!" A cold laugh sounded as Samuel Zane, leaning on his cane, descended the stairs step by step, his unhurried pace showing no concern that they might seize the opportunity to escape.
Descending the stairs, he approached them deliberately and his authoritative face bore an evident scorn.
