Chapter Fourty-Seven
Marcus' eyes burned with fury after reading the information on the translucent screen.

He knew something was fishy!

Marcus gave the box back and typed something on his phone.

"Eric ordered you, huh? Tell me what is inside the box."

Reading the phone, Gerald's eyes widened.

"H-How did you know?"

"That's not what is important. Open the box," Marcus demanded.

Gerald hesitated for a moment, then carefully opened the box under Marcus' stern gaze.

As the lid lifted, a putrid smell wafted out, and the sight inside made Gerald recoil in horror.

There, lying amid a bed of shredded paper, was a gruesome scene—a lifeless rat with shoes that looked expensive, and there was a blood-stained letter on top of the shoes.

Consider this a small taste of the consequences, Marcus. You dared to snatch the mansion, but remember, biting the hand that fed you has its own repercussions.

Marcus glared at the contents of the box, his anger reaching new heights.

The tailor, visibly shaken, stammered an apology
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