NOT THE MURDERER

ARTURO.

"The last time I came here, hmmm—" he streched his head out of the car, breathing in the air in front of the glass house before driving in. "It smells like chaos in there; no more regulars," he muzzled as he got down.

"Sorry, sir, you can’t go in; our boss has assigned visitors." The men at the gate stopped him. "I hate these guys so much—hmm, go tell him I am here." His face coiled as he mustered his courage to subdue his embarrassment.

"Wait here, sir," they ordered him as they sent a message. Arturo felt really disappointed that they treated him that way. Don Soriano had never accepted, but it never got this far. The humiliation was one thing he promised never to accept again from anyone, no matter what.

"You can go in, boo—he said they are on the terrace." The man returned, ushering him up to the terrace. "And why are you following me?" he asked warily. " Just work with me, sir," the man responded. " FU**!" Arturo smirked, shaking his head.

He got to the terrace, w
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