Rhett had barely taken a few steps when a teasing voice sounded from behind him.
"Did you have another fight with your dad?"
Preston appeared out of nowhere, casually dusting off his expensive jacket.
His sharp, fox-like eyes gleamed with amusement, that familiar mischievous glint never far from his gaze.
He was the perfect image of a spoiled young master, charming, arrogant, and utterly fearless, as if the whole world existed for his entertainment.
"Come on," he drawled, his lips curving into a smirk. "I just did you a big favor. And you have the nerve to hang up on me?"
Rhett shot him a cold glance and kept walking, not bothering to reply.
He had always been calm and distant, the type who didn't waste words.
Despite being uncle and nephew, there was always something offbeat about Preston. He was unpredictable, sometimes infuriating, sometimes useful.
