It was snowing heavily, and more than a dozen luxury cars pulled over at the entrance of Mansion No. 8.

The rear pa*senger door of the leading car slowly opened, and a man in a white suit got out.

He had a great figure and looked like a statue carved by Go d as he stood by the car door, aloof yet elegant.

The seemingly unapproachable man bent over and offered his fingers to the woman inside the car.

The moment those icy eyes saw the woman, they exuded warmth and tenderness.

It seemed that ...