"I just saw you smile," Matthew Saxon's gloomy voice echoed in her ear.
"You must be seeing things."
The car had been deliberately spray-painted, so naturally, it couldn't be driven away.
Matthew Saxon made a phone call, and soon George drove over a black Maybach.
Clearly, with his car suddenly vandalized, Matthew Saxon was in a foul mood.
Scarlett Yates analyzed the situation and concluded that the reason for Matthew Saxon's bad mood wasn't about the cost for repairs—not only was every car insured, even without it, the maintenance fee meant nothing to him.
The likely cause for his foul mood was the audacity of someone daring to mess with his car; it was simply reckless beyond measure.
"Find out who did this immediately. Once we catch them, there will be no leniency," Matthew's long, narrow eyes squinted, a dangerous cold light flickering in them.
"Yes, Young Master." When George saw the words sprayed on the car, he almost couldn't hold back his laughter.
