Chapter 92

The interior of the Von Ritcher private jet exuded luxury and sophistication. Plush leather seats, sleek metal accents, and soft ambient lighting created an atmosphere of comfort and exclusivity.

As the door to the jet closed with a satisfying thud, Greg and Dylan exchanged glances, each exhaling a sigh of relief.

Dylan flopped into a nearby seat, his posture relaxed yet his expression still tinged with astonishment. "Well, that was quite the experience. I never thought we'd be chased by a thousand reporters today."

Greg’s lips quivered into a wry smile, a trace of amusement in his eyes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been chased like that. I kind of forgot how it feels.”

His words carried a mixture of nostalgia and self-deprecating humor. The memory of his younger days when he was often hounded by the media felt like a distant echo. The passage of time had transformed him from an elusive enigma into a discreet presence, skilled at evading prying eyes.

Dylan chuckled, his gaze shif
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