He nodded, "Mr. Zimmerson doesn't live in the main house."
After a while, we arrived at the entrance of a villa on the edge of the suburbs. This was the only villa in a few kilometers. It was surrounded by bodyguards and seemed very safe.
Soloman got down from the car and walked up to the villa, pressing the doorbell.
A burly man walked out of the guardhouse. Once he confirmed Soloman’s identity, he opened the gates.
Soloman drove into the villa, and I was a little taken aback by its grandeur. It was tens of thousands of square feet big, and I could tell that it had a European-style interior just by looking at it from the outside. One glance was all it took to know that this was the pinnacle of luxury.
Soloman stopped the car, looked at me, and said, "Mr. Zimmerson only allows for you to enter. I’ll be waiting for you at the entrance."
"Alright."
I pushed the door open and got out of the car, walking toward the villa.
They had anticipated my arrival. The main doors of the villa were wide open, and an attendant stood by the door, waiting to greet me.
When I approached her, she bowed in greeting. "Miss Lane, the young master is waiting for you in the parlor on the third floor. I'll bring you to him now." 'Okay." I followed her through the living room and into the elevator.
The elevator stopped on the third floor. When I walked out, I was shocked.
The hallway's walls were all black, making it seem extremely claustrophobic. It also gave the impression that the villa's owner was not right in the head.
The servant stopped in front of a room and opened the door, letting me in.
I walked in and could not help but furrow my brows.
This was a parlor?
Why did it look like a bedroom?
I heard the sound of running water and turned toward the source of the sound.
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