As wisps of smoke swirled around him, a sleek black vehicle glided to a halt. The car door opened, revealing an impeccably dressed elderly gentleman.

It was Waylen.

Even Leonel, typically unflappable, momentarily lost his poise. He extinguished his cigarette and greeted, "Mr. Fowler!"

Waylen was holding a thermal food box.

He scrutinized Leonel before shifting his gaze upstairs. His tone took on a slightly elevated pitch as he asked, “Are you Living here?"

Leonel responded with a modest smile, neither confirming nor denying.

Waylen placed the food box atop the car.

With hands on hips, he paced back and forth a few times, eventually coming to a stop.

“Are you serious, or is this just a game to you?"

Leonel's smile waned.

"I'm serious!"

Waylen shot him a stern look.

Then, he thumped the car window loudly, resonating like thunder.

"Ross, get out here! Tell me, did you know from the beginning that these two kids were living together? And you had the nerve to claim Alexis wasn't feeling well and needed soup! You spineless fool, letting these youngsters push you around like that. All these years of living, and what have you achieved?"

Ross emerged from the car, seemingly indifferent.

Waylen glared at him.

“If you had just told me outright, could they have done anything to you?"

Ross scratched his head.

"I was worried you and Mrs. Fowler couldn't handle it."

Enraged, Waylen jabbed a finger at Leonel.