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... see you here. Haven’t you gone abroad yet?"

Ye Zhimeng looked up and saw her, her expression was not very good, "Are you that eager for me to leave the country?"

When she last called Xiang Mingzhu, even a fool could hear Xiang Mingzhu’s perfunctory tone.

She had been reflecting with Mrs. Ye these days, especially after knowing that Qiao Xi was Xu Xiuyuan’s biological sister; she no longer had any reason to oppose Qiao Xi.

Instead, she remembered Xiang Mingzhu’s in ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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