At the Elite Social Club, several men sat in a private room, not playing cards as usual, but each with a glass of red wine in front of them.
"Felix, what are you planning to do?" Nicholas Croft asked. Felix Shaw had been sitting on the sofa, smoking a cigarette, his peach blossom eyes slightly squinted as he stared at some spot, the ashtray in front of him piled into a little mountain.
"No particular plans," Felix Shaw returned to reality, shifting his sitting position as he spoke, "If he doesn't agree to my terms, I won't consent to my mom divorcing him."
Evander Lancaster sat next to him, his eyes cast down, gaze on the swirling red wine in his hand, and said leisurely, "It is apparent, uncle has made up his mind."
Felix Shaw had visited the hospital ward a few times yesterday, and Evander Lancaster had accompanied him on several occasions; he could see Oliver Shaw's affection for the mother and daughter.
