Like other mafia clans, you and Bellamy were raised in a special way to be as cruel and cold as possible to become worthy heirs.

One night, it was about three o'clock in the morning, the whole villa was dark but Bellamy's room still had a dim light from the night lamp. In the dim yellow light, Bellamy's large silhouette fell on the wall, he was sitting reading a book. Suddenly, a knife flew from behind. Bellamy didn't take his eyes off the book, slightly tilting his head to one side. The knife grazed Bellamy's head, just inches away from touching his head, embedding itself in the photo of him on the table.

Bellamy didn't take his eyes off the book. I don't know if it was intentional or not, but in the photo where the knife was stuck in, the knife was stuck right in his face.

Bellamy didn't even look up from the book. His voice is warm, but the oppression radiating is not light. “I'll throw you down from the fifth floor if you keep sneaking around like that, sister.”