The Fake Son Is A Billionaire Young Master by Morningale

Chapter 62 Or do we, Mrs Malfoy

Or do we, Mrs. Malfoy? A gasp escaped the man's lips as cold water was splashed on his face. Coming back to life, he struggled against his restraints, his breath coming out in short, panicked bursts.

His eyes, wide, frantically swept around the dimly lit room, searching for any clue as to where he was.

The room was small, suffocating, and gave off an eerie sense. The walls were a faded shade of white, peeling in some areas, revealing the bleak grey concrete underneath.

The room was small, with only one lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and its weak light creating long, ominous shadows.

It seemed as though no one had been in there for a long time because of the musty smell in the air. = The chair he found himself bound to was old and worn. The wooden structure squeaked beneath his weight, and his wrists and ankles were bit by the rope that kept him securely in place.

The man strained against his bonds, desperate to break free and escape the foreboding atmosphere that surrounded him.

His eyes fell upon a small, barred window at the far end of the room, offering a glimpse of the outside world.

"Are you done staring?!" A sharp voice jolted him out of his reverie, hearing the voice. His eyes scanned around and

landed on two fellows. A green-haired huge guy and a blue-haired girl.

A frown came to his face as his memories began to flash back to him like a match connecting fire to fire.

ex-convict. The mastermind of the serial killings of young girls thirty years ago. I am curious as to

Smart Control

free himself from the ropes. "Two days ago, you rammed your truck against a car, do you remember?" "Oh, that?" Peter raised his head and a terrifying smile appeared on

was meant to? I'm too good at my job!"

should have just brought Slim along if I knew you wouldn't be able to keep your

upset with Smartie, but he did want her to understand that emotions should be controlled when

but Smartie is just a seventeen-year-old girl. So Spooky

to kill? And who sent you?" Spooky asked,

was seeping out of his lips. "I have kept my

I was given the job to kill him. I truly did not want to, as he

as I had already received payment to end his life." Spooky and Smartie exchanged a knowing look as he

of the person who sent Peter, not

to

rings, the

"The target is Jeff. Should I look

"Of course."

that Spooky hung up the call and went back to the

was crushing on. Anyway, sinners can't go scot-free." "What about you?" "I

his belongings, preparing himself to leave

hadn't responded with any feedback. Despiic his lingering physical pain, Jeff believed that