Michael was on the floor, completely paralyzed with fear. When he heard this, h e nearly peed his pants. Cold sweat began t o trickle down his body.
Although Ivan and Neil had also stepped forward to confront her, he had spoken with the most bite and even did his happy dance in an attempt to mock her. It seemed that he had truly pissed this Goddess of War off.
"Goddess of War, pl-please, have mercy on me. I didn't know you were a Goddess of War. I..."
Michael kneeled on the floor and began to kowtow to her, but it seemed that he quickly thought of something and pointed a t Ivan instead. "I was just listening to Ivan and the rest. They said that Fane was leeching off a rich woman,” he said." They’ve led me astray! I'm innocent!”
Ivan never thought that Michael would think of dragging him down to hell. He was suddenly overcome with anger and a wave of panic.
He clenched his teeth and took two steps forward, glaring viciously at Michael." Young Master Wilson, we're good friends, aren't we? How can you accuse me of something like that? Who was the one who said he wanted to see the rich woman's true colors? Who was the one who said that she had a secret affair? And who was the only who refused to listen, but remained arrogant and stubborn?"
"Hmph. Not another word from you!" Michael harrumphed coldly. "Don't tell me you didn't call her a rich hag as well?"
He was determined to drag Ivan down with him.
He was well aware that his death was certain if he did not drag Ivan along with him-even if he did not die, he would probably be handicapped for life.
It was useless to drag Neil or Ken along.
Ivan, however, was different—he was the young master of the Taylor family, the only son. There was no way the Goddess of War would dare kill him.
It was Old Man Taylor's birthday-his 70th. No way a Goddess of War would dare kill his grandson during his birthday.
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