Henry Ford looked at her crying face and smiled softly, "Don't you know that the more you cry, the more I want to make you cry harder?" His elegant voice carried undisguised desire.
He turned the doorknob and pulled Iris Harris into the room. Suddenly, a cold gleam flashed towards his wrist. Henry Ford swiftly dodged, feeling a numbness in his palm, and his grip loosened. Turning back, the woman behind him had already fallen into someone else's arms.
This change happened in just three seconds.
The light and shadows were very dim.
Henry Ford's smile at the corner of his lips became somewhat sinister, "It's you."
The young, handsome man held the woman tightly in his arms with one hand, while the other hand pointed a gun at him, his eyes undisguised with murderous intent, his expression gloomy and sinister.
Iris Harris smelled a familiar scent, her heart pounding uncontrollably, difficult to describe her feelings at this moment, as if her heart would leap out of her throat.
