People are scared in America, my uncle is Dante

Chapter 193 Coming out of my daughter's room

From a tree dozens of meters away, Suren watched the tender scene unfolding in the small pavilion with a strange expression.

The woman named Los was Dean Armitage's only daughter.

Seeing her so affectionate expression just now, Su Lun was momentarily unsure whether she was acting or genuinely liked the other person.

However, Suren did not sense any demonic power from this woman.

The black man named Collins looked like an unsuspecting passerby.

Their conversation just now, and the fact that tonight's party at the manor seemed to be specially organized because it was the first time the black boy had come to meet his parents?

Isn't that ridiculous?

Would a conglomerate of this caliber make such a big fuss just for a poor kid to come to their door?

He might believe it if it were another family, but with a family like the Armitages that had lost all humanity, he was more convinced that this poor boy was the auction item for tonight, and those so-called relatives were just the sellers.

Seeing Collins walk alone toward the main building, Suren used the stealth properties of [Valak] to quietly follow him, hiding in the shadows along the wall.

Since the party wasn't over yet, he decided to check out the black man first and see what was going on.

Inside the bedroom on the second floor.

Collins whistled as he deftly stuffed a few changes of clothes and other items into his travel bag.

After packing his things, he habitually touched his pants, preparing to grab his car keys.

"Um?"

Collins paused for a moment.

Where are the car keys?

He turned his pockets inside out and searched his packed travel bag, but still couldn't find the car keys.

"It should be with Los."

Collins slapped his forehead and then remembered that Los had driven the car during the day, and the car keys should still be with her.

He breathed a sigh of relief, lay down on the soft bed, put his hands behind his head, and waited for Los to return.

While waiting in boredom, Collins's gaze unconsciously swept across the room, finally settling on a wardrobe placed in the corner.

The wardrobe door was ajar, and several of Los's personal belongings were hanging on it.

Deep inside the wardrobe, there seemed to be a piece of wood with a color that didn't quite match the other pieces.

Out of boredom, he got up and walked over out of curiosity.

"A hidden door?"

He parted the clothes, revealing a small wooden door without a handle.

The hidden door was unlocked and opened with a gentle tap.

Inside was a small cubicle that could only accommodate one person. There were no other items placed there, except for a storage box in the very center.

What could possibly be hidden in a compartment like this?

Collins' curiosity was piqued.

He grabbed the storage box and, by the light, discovered that it was filled with old photos.

Collins picked up the top photo at random.

That's a solo photo of Los.

She stood by the sea in a floral dress, her smile radiant.

Looking at the photo, Collins' lips unconsciously curled up as he continued scrolling down.

One.

Two.

The photos of Los, from beaches to forests, from snowy days to scorching sun, each one records her beautiful past.

As Collins watched, his expression gradually relaxed, and he even seemed a little lost in thought.

But when he turned to the next page, Collins' smile froze instantly.

In the photo, his girlfriend Rose still smiles so sweetly and radiantly.

But she was lying in another man's arms.

A Black man he had never seen before.

Collins stared at the photo for a while, then subconsciously shook his head.

"wrong."

He moved the photo further away, then closer, and even changed the angle, trying to find evidence that it wasn't the same person.

But his face and his eyes couldn't fool him.

"Maybe—just classmates or friends?"

Collins muttered to himself and subconsciously picked up another photograph.

The person in the photo is still Los, but the man next to her has changed.

His breathing became rapid as he quickly flipped through the other photos.

With each picture he looked at, his face grew paler and his heart beat faster.

In each photo, Los is seen posing intimately with a different Black person.

The background changes, the seasons change, and men change too!

The only thing that remained unchanged was her eternally gentle smile.

"That's impossible."

Collins said in a low voice.

Rose had told him herself that he was the first Black boyfriend she had ever dated.

If this is true, then who are the men in these photos?

But upon seeing the next photo, his pupils contracted slightly.

The black man in the photo, who is hugging Los's slender waist and smiling brightly at the camera, is someone he had just met.

That Black gardener.

A chill suddenly ran up Collins' feet.

In the shadows of the corner, Suren watched all of this quietly.

"Truly—no ordinary person comes among them."

He couldn't help but sigh.

Charlie had just told him about the black man: his father who ran away from home, his mother who died in a car accident, and his gentle and considerate white girlfriend from a wealthy family.

Combining these photos of Black people with the image of a Black person, Suren quickly recalled a horror movie called Get Out.

"Fuck!"

Collins threw the photo in his hand on the ground, his face turning pale.

This family, this group of people, and these photos—there's definitely something wrong with this!

He closed the hidden door, nervously clutched his travel bag, and rushed out the door.

Forget about the gentle girlfriend, forget about the damn family dinner; he didn't want to stay a moment longer.

However, as soon as he turned around, his body jolted and he froze on the spot.

At the doorway, Los was already standing there.

She was wearing that red dress, carrying a travel bag, and looking at him with a smile.

"Honey, are you ready?"

"Los asked."

Collins swallowed hard, looking at his gentle and tactful girlfriend, still clinging to a last shred of hope and wishful thinking.

"I've packed everything. Do you have the car keys?"

"What key?"

Los looked puzzled. "Haven't you had the key the whole time?"

As she spoke, she opened her travel bag and squatted down on the ground: "Don't worry, let me look for it."

"You were driving during the day, have you forgotten?"

Collins looked at her.

Once the seeds of doubt are sown, they will grow wildly like weeds.

He looked at his girlfriend, whom he had once deeply loved, and now she seemed hypocritical and terrifying no matter how he looked at her.

Thinking back to the way the white elders looked at him at the banquet, and the Black gardener who seemed like a walking corpse—

"FUCK! Forget it! Let's get out of here first and then look for it!"

Collins pushed Los aside and rushed out.

As a result, when he rushed to the stairwell, he stopped in despair.

Los's father, Dean Armitage, was standing below, holding a steaming cup of coffee.

Several tall bodyguards stood beside him, blocking the entrance completely.

Dean raised his coffee cup, looked at Collins standing on the stairs, and gave him a gentle smile.

"It's so late, where do you think you're going to abandon my daughter, Collins?"

Collins looked at the group of people, his back soaked with cold sweat.

He turned to look at his girlfriend as she came out of the room; she looked at him as if he were dead.

He immediately ran upstairs.

If you can't get through on the first floor, then find a window and jump out!

But he stopped again after taking only a few steps.

Dean's wife blocked his way.

Collins roared and lunged at the old woman.

There are too many people downstairs for me to fight, do you think I'm afraid of an old woman like you?

However, the old woman remained unmoved when facing him, her eyes gleaming with a pink light.

A strange floral fragrance emanated from the old woman and was instantly inhaled by Collins.

His body stiffened, and he felt dizzy.

In a hazy state, he seemed to sense his mother's scent and embrace, a warmth enveloping him.

Collins' eyes rolled back, and he fainted in the aisle.

The bodyguards downstairs immediately came forward, skillfully lifted the unconscious Collins, and carried him downstairs.

"Father, you don't need to do it yourself, lest you ruin the quality of the goods."

Los walked to the top of the stairs and looked at Dean, his tone indifferent.

"No rush, Los."

Dean took a sip of coffee and shook his head.

"We still have a distinguished guest who has come from afar tonight whom we have not yet entertained."

Los was slightly taken aback: "A guest?"

Dean didn't answer his daughter. Instead, he looked up at the bedroom and laughed, "Surren, how long do you intend to hide in my daughter's room?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it echoed through the somewhat empty villa, reaching every corner.

"If you like Los, I can arrange for her to marry you."

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