Travis Miller was engulfed by a tempest of cold fury bursting forth from his body, as if he intended to destroy something.
Nat Crawford was secretly alarmed.
Having been by President Miller's side for so many years, he was familiar with the man's usual graceful composure and his noble, refined demeanor. Even when angered, his fury was often hidden behind a casual smile.
But this kind of rage, so uninhibited and terrifying—he had never seen it before.
A powerful aura radiated from him, chilling and oppressive.
Nat quickly murmured his acknowledgment and turned to leave hurriedly.
Travis stood coldly in place for a long moment. Finally, with his stern and handsome face darkened, he turned and strode away.
Abigail Hemsworth was a wreck, her pain tearing at her nerves. Drops of sweat seeped through her pale skin, streaming down her face like fragile beads, her complexion ashen as paper.
She sat on a bench beneath the bus stop sign, her trembling hand tightly clenched.
