The banquet hall erupted in an uproar at Glen's outburst.

"What?! Someone killed Les Turnbull?"

"No way, he's dead? And that brat killed him?!"

"That's the son of the family head we're talking about... Who the hell let him in here?"

Frank could feel everyone's eyes on him.

He glanced coldly at Walter in turn and said calmly, "Yes, I killed him."

"How dare you!" Glen bellowed, clearly unable to retrain his own wrath.

strut on his own turf freely

his head high if

Frank was laughing out loud and shaking his head. "Then did you read the part on why I killed him? You're a real failure of a

they could

and turned toward Walter, sighing in disappointment. "Shouldn't you be standing up to explain the facts? I remember how you bravely volunteered

clenching his cheeks, pain swelling

and had a troubled reputation in the family. His

was that there were two deaths, and the other was

explain that? If anything, he had come

Those two lowlifes? So what if they are dead? No one will miss

into the banquet hall in her white gown, her long black hair flowing beneath her tiara and her devilish figure instantly seizing

all grown up

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