MR. MICHEAL PENTHOUSE

The drive from Michael's penthouse apartment down to the villa where old grandpa Robert lived was a shorter distance than he had predicted it to be.

Michael got down from the taxi and paid the driver with both cash and a kind smile.

As he strode down to the entrance, he was surprised to see Clara's mother, Diana, pacing about at the entrance. Her eyes sparked as she saw him, and she hurried to him with her high heels, calling attention as she walked towards him.

The knee-length black dress she had on moved upward, revealing her thighs as she walked. The look on her face wasn't that of someone who was pleased.

Michael stood with a plain expression on his face. His clothes were as simple as they had always been; he tucked his hand into the pocket of his jacket and held his head high.

"Listen to me," Diana started with a deadly scowl. "I don't know why my father wants to see you, but you better compose yourself in there. Don't go talking like a retarded fool about things you shouldn