The man stood by the window, glanced down at the street through the gap of the open window.
This is the third floor.
If he rashly jumps down, not only will he fail to escape, but he might also get paralyzed.
—In hindsight, choosing the third floor for show wasn't the best idea.
The phone rang three times, and someone answered.
"What's going on?" The woman answering was impatient, her tone cold and particularly arrogant.
"Sis, it's like this..."
The man recounted Nora Scott's situation.
At the end, he turned around to glance behind him, pressed his tongue against his cheek, met Rosie Sullivan's watchful gaze, smiled amicably at her, and continued, "Sis, you need to personally guide this trip. If something happens to a top-tier celebrity, we'd be criticized nationwide... maybe we should just let it go."
He gently persuaded.
Nora and Rosie exchanged a glance.
