Standing at the kitchen door, he looked at Nathan Moore, the mockery at the corner of his mouth evident as he let out a cold laugh.
"Director Moore, if you don't say anything, I truly wouldn't have known how well you take care of your aunt-in-law."
"That's right, we're family after all," Nathan retorted unabashedly, flipping the ham in the skillet, his raised eyebrows conveying his disdain.
If he used to care about Titus Zane working under Wesley Foley, now he didn't regard the man at all—an egghead who could only tinker with machines in the lab, pushing forty and yet without a woman, it seemed he either lacked emotional intelligence or was physically deficient.
Nathan believed it was the latter.
Don't ask why, there's no reason, it's just the latter!
"Heh!" A cold laugh sounded again, the early morning brought two equally outstanding men standing together trading barbs.
Wesley Foley spoke up, his tone slow and measured but carrying an aggressive stance.
