When Harvey Howard appeared, the entire hall automatically cleared a path, even the people dancing in the dance floor gradually dispersed.
Aaron Ray observed silently.
He was a man about thirty-seven or eight years old, wearing a deep black Western-style tuxedo, walking with steady steps, a straight posture, exuding an extraordinary presence.
Despite his age, it did not diminish his handsomeness in the slightest.
To women, he had the ultimate charm of a mature man; to men, he had the unfathomable air of someone in power.
This head of the Howard Family brought only two bodyguards with him, yet his aura was overwhelming, and the surrounding chatter reduced by more than half, as if people unconsciously adjusted their volume upon seeing him.
Aaron Ray felt a heat inside.
Every man present should feel a warmth in their hearts.
Any man would want to be as majestic as Harvey Howard, even Griffin Dalton was just a frog that had just glimpsed the vastness of the world at this moment.
