Inside the private room, the four of them took their seats. Sydney Sawyer, Chester Sawyer, and Yancy Hale sat together.
Casey Huxley sat alone on a single armchair, looking out of place.
He was half-sunk into the plush armchair, slouching with one leg crossed, the very picture of unbridled arrogance.
On the way over, Sydney Sawyer had also learned some details about the Huxley family from Yancy Hale.
Ryder Sharp's mother had no sisters, only two older brothers. His older maternal uncle had a son and a daughter, while his younger one had only a single son: Casey Huxley. At nineteen, just a year older than Chester Sawyer, he was the youngest in the Huxley family and utterly spoiled.
"Can you sit up straight?" Yancy Hale frowned.
Casey Huxley fiddled with the gaudy ring on his hand, head down. "This is called style…"
Just then, someone pushed the door open, and Yancy Hale suddenly shouted toward the entrance:
"Sharp!"
