No idlers in Florida.
Palm Beach, the billionaire's resort paradise.
Inside a luxurious villa.
Miss Dupont was furious, yelling into her phone, "Immediately, right now, no matter what you use, Apache, main battle tanks, infantry fighting vehicles... I want out!"
The person on the other end probably moved the phone away until Vera's voice faded, then weakly said, "Vera. I'm really not in the country right now..."
Vera wasn't so easily deceived, "Do you think I'm a three-year-old child? What does it matter if you're in the country or not! Martin, if you leave me for dead, don't come to me in the future!"
"Vera, why do you say that? Just consider it a vacation."
Young Master Martin, whose family business primarily deals in international arms trade, forced a smile, clearly lacking confidence himself.
As expected, Vera's voice rose even higher. She was glaring out at the suited thugs who had the villa surrounded so tightly that not even a mosquito could get through.
