"This..."
Ramsey watched the bloody scene before him, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.
The last time President Luther had an attack, it was out of no choice that the Madam had to witness such a scene.
But now, President Luther was fully conscious.
"What?" Sinclair lifted his eyes, looking at Ramsey with a seemingly amused but not quite smiling expression.
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
Meeting those unfathomably deep eyes, Ramsey stiffened.
"No, no need.
I will invite the Madam in right away."
With that, he turned around and left. Meanwhile, Sinclair continued to meticulously clean his fingers.
Part by part, with great precision.
As if, these hands had touched something disgustingly filthy.
His downcast onyx eyes held a chill that was hard to decipher.
What kind of expression would this woman have when she sees herself as terrifying in her lucid moments as when she is in the throes of sickness?
