Indeed, who would have thought that the distinguished Anderson would’ve acted like a drunken fool in the dead of night?

Just as the security guard was about to call the police, a slender figure emerged from the darkness.

It was Noah.

He must have been asleep. Clad in a black two-piece pajama set, topped with a long black down coat, he braved the cold night with a cigarette dangling between his fingers. It had already burnt halfway down.

Under the bright porch light, he looked stunning and imposing, which accentuated Anderson’s disheveled appearance even more.

As Anderson gazed at Noah, his lips trembled uncontrollably.

"Where is Ayanna?" he asked.

Noah chuckled coldly. "Buried."

Buried...

Anderson’s eyes widened in disbelief.

He couldn't accept this outcome, yet he also found it absurdly ironic. He was the one who had driven her to her death and yet he was consumed with regret now.

Noah took a drag from his cigarette, the faint green smoke hanging in the air under the porc