Charles Seymour, having worked it out, naturally had no problems, but Dylan Clark on the other side was about to lose his mind.
"Who? Who are they? I'm going to kill them!" Dylan's head was bandaged, and the pain made him grit his teeth.
"President Clark, don't be angry. They are from out of town..." Isabella Chamberlain hadn't finished speaking when the furious Dylan interrupted, "I don't care where they're from!"
"Even if they are from outer space, I want them dead!" Dylan cursed through clenched teeth.
"Who do you want dead?" An aged, stern rebuke startled Dylan, making him shiver. Instinctively, he turned his head towards the door, his fierce demeanor instantly dampened, and obediently called out, "Dad."
Elder Clark walked in. In fact, at his age, he wasn't that old, just in his early sixties.
But here, he managed a substantial enterprise, so people respectfully called him Elder Clark.
