On the way out through the airport halls, the police carefully covered Joseph's handcuffed hands with clothes to avoid creating unnecessary commotion.

Despite that, whispers and curious glances followed them. The travelers even took pictures and posted them online.

In the interrogation room, Joseph, who always cultivated an image of elegance and reason, now pounded the table with his cuffed hands, screaming in frustration, "Didn't Aidan confess to everything? I don't know anything about his illegal drug business, and it has nothing to do with me. Who put you up to this? Why targetand the Lovelace Group?" Cyrus stared coldly at the man he once called Uncle Joseph. His lips formed a thin, impassive line. "Mr. Joseph, is that foresight you're displaying, or perhaps a guilty conscience? I haven't even mentioned drugs, yet you're already incriminating yourself." Joseph broke out in a cold sweat under Cyrus' unyielding gaze. He attempted to leverage their relationship to his advantage. "Mr. Cy... I mean, Cyrus! After all, I'm still your uncle!" "In this room," Cyrus countered, his voice devoid of emotion, "we are officer and suspect." Cyrus continued, "And besides, you are Edgar Lovelace's adopted son, not his biological son. You have no blood ties to him or my mother. So, 'uncle' seems rather far-fetched.

flushed a deep crimson, the sting of humiliation burning

also for inciting your secretary,

was attempted murder, you'll be spending

right!" Cyrus frowned. "So, you're admitting to it?" "Don't you have all the evidence? Where can I go if I don't confess?" "Why did you do it?" "Edgar Lovelace had been unkind toand never sawas his son. He only tookas a tool to help him, build his empire and secure his family. Why should I pretends net" be a good son when he is so heartless to me? I've pretended for more

spoke in a low voice, "Your son,

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