Inside a beautiful and spacious office, Marlon sat with his father, Orlando Brando, the president of West Nation.
Orlando was in his late middle-age and was quite handsome, with properly cut jet-black hair and hazel eyes that shone with intelligence and experience.
At the moment, he frowned slightly as he observed his son.
He leaned closer and asked in a stern tone,
"Son, I've always believed and trusted you, but right now I need to ask… have you started drinking alcohol?"
Marlon sighed inwardly. He already knew this would be his first response.
Who would actually believe a story like his?
"I haven't," he responded.
And then continued, "I already expected it would be very difficult for you to believe me, and honestly, with little to no proof in my hands to show, I wouldn't even believe myself if I were you."
"If there were enough time on our hands, I would've spent most of it preparing enough proof. Unfortunately, time is a luxury we lack."
