The study was engulfed in anxiety.
The man's drunkenness had sobered up quite a bit, but he still couldn't calm down at the moment.
This woman was actually wearing Rosie Scott's clothes and threw herself at him.
Who did she want to replace?
Courting death.
The veins on the man's neck were bulging, his dark eyes were bloodshot, the buttons of his shirt were wide open, and there was a red kiss mark on his neck. His slender arms were visibly muscular due to exertion.
"Who allowed you to wear Rosie's clothes?"
"To use her things?"
"Like me?" Charles Anderson's fingers exerted pressure: "Would you like me even if it means dying?"
Grace Carter's beautiful eyes were bloodshot, her face turned from pale to purple, and she was already out of breath.
She wanted to speak, but her vision went black.
Her heartbeat was erratic, her body was cold with sweat, she could feel that Charles Anderson was serious.
He actually wanted to strangle her.
A loud 'bang'.
