"You're such a loser!" cursed an old woman, her face completely furious at James Rickon's arrival. That night, James Rickon had returned from his shift at a small bar on the city's edge. The man with shoulder-length black hair looked exhausted, with a strong odour coming from his body, sweaty from the heavy physical work at the bar. He arrived at the house where he lived with his wife, Caroline Rosewood. The house didn't belong to the two but to Caroline Rosewood's big family. There were three families living there with their children; only James and Caroline were childless. The old woman who shouted at James was Madam Margaery, the owner of three large companies under the Rosewood Family. The 74-year-old white-haired woman hated James because he came from an ordinary family, and his work wasn't worthy of the Rosewood Family. "You are a disgrace to Rosewood. I don't understand why Caroline keeps sticking up for you!" snapped Madam Margaery, pointing at James kneeling resignedly bef

James walked closer to his bedroom. His right hand reached for the doorknob and opened it quietly, making no noise. Through the crack of the open door, he could see Caroline burying her face in the pillow. The sound of her crying was clearly audible, considering the Rosewood house was quiet, just the two of them and some maids. James's mind was utterly chaotic; his heart was mixed between satisfaction and sadness at Caroline's condition. But as a spy agent, James must put aside the feelings in his heart for the success of his mission. He thought he had to eliminate all her mistresses and show himself as different from before to get Caroline's heart completely. James closed the door again slowly. To create the impression that he had come to the room, James opened it again by moving the doorknob pretty hard, giving Caroline a chance to respond. "It's been a long night. Are you feeling the same, dear?" asked James, acting normal as if nothing had happene

The phone call ended, James gave the phone back to Gilbert. He fully understood what the president wanted, especially since the current situation could be considered urgent. The spread of drugs was worrying, having a significant negative impact on the nation's generation. James knew why this task had been given to him. "He has high hopes for you, Mr Lawrence. He has even chosen his best people to help you in your duty," Colonel Gilbert explained, putting his phone back into the pocket of his military shirt. He sat on a single-seat sofa, poured his best wine into his glass, and took one sip, "I will choose my own men." "But the president wants it in person. He wants to make sure that you are carrying out this mission well," Gilbert explained. "So, the President doesn't trust me and my men?" asked James, squinting both eyes with a sharp glare, making Gilbert clumsy. "It's not like that. He just doesn't trust them yet," Gilbert replied.Read more