Chapter Eight
Sofia Hamilton composed herself before heading downstairs.
The moment she reached the ground floor, she saw a man in his thirties seated at the dining table, slightly overweight and anxiously on the phone, seemingly dealing with some tricky issue.
From his back, it was clear he was not someone she knew.
She was also certain she didn't know this person at all.
Strangely enough, he stood up as soon as he saw her coming down, hurriedly pulling out a chair for Sofia, "Come, come, Miss Hamilton, please have a seat."
The gesture was peculiar, making one feel both weird and tense.
Sofia was somewhat hesitant to sit down.
Seeing her tense and guarded, the man laughed and said, "Miss Hamilton, don't worry, you are a VIP at my place, I won't hurt you, have a seat."
The man wore a smile, seemingly without malice.
Yet, Sofia never imagined that standing in front of her was a notorious fugitive.
