Mark stared at the man in the suit for a moment before his eyes widened. "Luan?"
Mark's mind went blank at the sight of the Sterling Group's leader standing there, watching his every move.
The cold aura radiating from his stern face was overwhelming; his gaze intimidated Mark, who felt like nothing more than a pile of rubble littering the street.
A cold smirk appeared on Luan's face. Without a single word escaping his lips, that dismissive expression was enough to slap what remained of Mark's self-respect down to its lowest point.
"You look so pitiful, Mr. Mark."
"For three years you let a woman live like trash in your house. And now, you're crawling on the floor just to chase after a mere shadow?"
Mark jerked his shoulders roughly, trying to free himself from the grip of the two burly men on his right and left. He struggled, but the grip on his shoulders only tightened further.
Mark turned away, spitting a clump of thick blood from his mouth.
