Misha Evans looked at the man with a stern face in front of her, and she couldn't believe that he had drunk the soup and yet nothing had happened to him.
"Even if I were drugged, a woman like you coming to my lips, I still wouldn't be able to swallow!" Chester Yale narrowed his demonic pupils as if he had endured to the utmost, and before Misha could notice anything amiss, he reached out and knocked her unconscious.
After dumping Misha to one side, he struggled to stand up from the ground, using the sofa for support.
The sternness on his face gradually gave way to a flush, and his whole body radiated an unusual warmth.
"Damn it!" Chester cursed softly, checking the time and realizing it was almost right, he grabbed the car key and headed towards the balcony.
Sheldon Yale knew his self-control all too well, aware that ordinary drugs could not detain him, he had resorted to the strongest poison.