"What a coincidence,"
Calvin arched an eyebrow as he spotted the figure entering downstairs, his lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk.
"Speak of the devil."
Taylor frowned and followed Calvin's gaze toward the entrance.
A woman glided in, dressed in a moon-white gown, her slender neck exposed like flawless jade.
Jet-black hair cascaded softly down her back, framing delicate features that exuded the gentle grace of a misty landscape.
She stood out starkly against the club's decadent, intoxicating atmosphere.
Her presence instantly caught the attention of many men in the room, their eyes lighting up with interest.
Taylor's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, his handsome, composed face betraying no emotion.
It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
"Tsk, tsk," Calvin watched Voilet, his thin lips twisting slightly as a hint of mockery flickered in his eyes.
"Years have passed, yet this woman hasn't changed a bit."
