The First Heir

Philip’s eyes were cold. He sent a text message on his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He glanced at the Cadillac behind them, gave it a thought, and followed them into the car.

Intercontinental Hotel, Presidential Suite.

Philip followed the two bodyguards into the private room and saw eight burly men in it. They were all dressed in black suits and had an icy aura like they had been through a lot. It was frightening.

At the head of the round table sat a plump, middle-aged man tucking into a lamb hot pot.

Wynn sat beside him with her arms folded over her chest. Her icy expression looked slightly anxious.

Philip speculated. He saw through them at a glance.

The eight people looked like martial artists, so their fighting skills should be good.

As for the man who was eating hot pot, he might look plump, but there was something evil in his every move.

‘He’s a tough guy!’

However, it was all nothing to Philip.

‘A useless bum?

‘I’m sorry, I’m not one.’

He did not waste a year or two training with Reed.

He might not be as good as Rick, but at least he could defend himself.

Wynn was pleased to see Philip in the private room, but she was also worried. She immediately got up and asked, “You’re here. Just by yourself?”

Phil not see her

did he not bring

all right. I can handle it

speechless. She kept winking at him, but Philip did not look at her. He went straight to the round table and sat down without a care in the

to sit down too. However, she kept kicking him under the table

the fraternity in the South River District. They’re here

a worried look in her

not expect that Noah would invite such a gangster

An obvious threat!

a reassuring look. Then, he unceremoniously picked up the chopsticks from the table, dipped a piece of lamb into the boiling hot pot,

Wynn was dumbfounded.

my husband

man sitting opposite Philip was Mitch Potter, the leader of the fraternity that was

blood and lives on

cruel and diabolical. He

to the fish in the river just because his wife exchanged a few words with a stranger. That stranger

was still alive and well. Even the authorities could not do anything to him because he

was the South

far

slowly, ignoring Mitch who sat across

wipe his mouth and drank a glass of red wine. There was

one kind of person in

a sneer. “A deadbeat

slice of lamb and said with

This was the first time someone had not shown

a smile, “Mr. Potter, my husband Philip is

his eyebrows. Dipping the sauce, he smiled and said, “Honey. This

only glared at him and hinted to him not

Mitch Potter,