After Ian left, Wesley tried calling Eunice, but to no avail. Great, she'd even blocked his number! Ian was such a pain. Eunice had blocked his number, yet he had to drag Wesley down with him. To tell the truth, anyone would be angry about what had happened tonight. If Wesley were Eunice, he would've ignored Ian, too. After half an hour, Wesley nervously walked toward Ian. "Um, Mr. Moore, I can't find Mrs. Moore." Ian sat on the couch with his legs crossed, with one arm resting on the armrest and the other holding a cigarette in his mouth. He took a deep drag, and the rich, acrid stench of tobacco filled the living room. The sharp, pungent smell of the smoke hit Ian right in the chest. For a moment, he couldn't tell if his anguish was caused by the tobacco or his emotions. He squinted slightly, exuding an unrestrained, wild, and bold presence with a dark and subtle undertone, seemingly thinning the surrounding air. He was like a lion, ready to unleash his rage. After a mo
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