Labels like "crazy," "loser," and "penniless" were all tags that had been slapped onto Thomas, and there was no changing that. They only sought pleasure from stepping on him. Thomas chose not to reveal his identity, giving them the chance to show their ugly faces. Watching their despicable expressions, he couldn't help but observe them with a mix of cold detachment and mockery. Robison and his cousins were all too eager to flaunt their wealth and status, each one trying to outdo the other. Their tones were nauseating, lacking any sense of decorum, yet they were quick to criticize others for their supposed lack of refinement. Thomas could easily slap them back with a few words, but he wasn't in the mood for that just yet."This box took me time to find," Thomas said, emphasizing the last few words. "It's an old piece, so it can't possibly be as pristine as a new item. It may look good on the outside, but it lacks the depth that comes with age." At eighty years old, he still had a fiery

Thomas seized the moment, realizing he needed to reassess the situation. The other party's intentions were crystal clear-they were here for him. As Thomas listened to the way he spoke, the sarcastic tone was nothing like how he spoke to Robison. It reminded him of someone he didn't like, someone he was starting to genuinely resent. "Just say what you need to say. I can't stand this kind of talk. Who sent you here? Or who told you to come?" Damien scrutinized the man before him, his gaze sharp and filled with an underlying threat. This was someone whose mere presence could shake the very ground beneath everyone around him. Here was a super powerful boss, yet he insisted on playing it so low-key. It was one thing to be humble, but it seemed like someone was taking advantage of him. Damien thought Thomas was being far too patient. He couldn't understand why someone so formidable would let others walk all over him. If he had such impressive power, he should at least make it clear to ev

"Enter the password." The information needs to be unlocked again. "Sorry, the password is incorrect." Ava realized that the number was neither her daughter’s birthday nor her own. She had tried a series of possible digits, but now her attempts were limited. What could that number be? Ava fell into silence. "What are you doing?" Thomas suddenly appeared, startling Ava so much that she quickly shoved her phone into her pocket. She looked at Thomas, whose hair was still damp from the shower, and wondered how he had come into the living room without her noticing. "You... you're done showering? Look at you, how can you just throw your clothes around? The sofa isn't a wardrobe." Ava quickly scooped up the clothes, using them to cover her pocket, trying to act as casually as possible. Thomas stared at her for several seconds, sensing something was off. He slowly spoke up, "What's going on with you?" "Um, I'm done. You should go wash up too. I'm a bit tired, and could you take those clot

As for Damien, the information they had was still too limited, and the surveillance footage hadn't revealed much, only adding to the mystery surrounding him. They could only hope that Damien was indeed his real name; that would give them a clearer direction for their investigation. The first step was to follow up on his name and license plate number, and the second was to look into his interactions with Mrs. Clair. The license plate number was a more straightforward lead, especially since these luxury vehicles often had more information hidden in their registrations. It wasn't just basic information; it could involve fixed assets or family background, and there might even be personnel records tied to it. They checked two cars, but the registered owners were completely different, with no obvious connections between them. This made Damien’s identity even more elusive. Perhaps Thomas was being too cautious. The person they were investigating certainly warranted a thorough look into. "B

"I've never been afraid of anyone. You think just because you have the numbers, you're tough? If you're not scared of dying, then go ahead and try me." Damien’s fierce demeanor showed no signs of retreat in front of his enemies; after all, there was nothing left for him to lose. Robison watched the man in front of him, a presence so intense it was hard to ignore. Damien let out a cold laugh and kicked the man lying on the floor. The guy didn't even flinch. Is he dead? "I'm not looking down on you guys; this is just the start." "Gentlemen, please, let's not get too worked up. We can talk this out." The door to the private room swung open, and the duty manager rushed in, drenched in sweat, struggling to catch his breath. Two waiters followed closely behind. As he steadied himself, he nearly stumbled again upon noticing the body on the floor. "What... what happened? Is this gentleman alright?" The manager hurried over and crouched down, his head resting on the man's left chest. He sig