Imperial Capital.
Presidential residence.
Looking at Yigol Foster, who lay stiff as a corpse on the sofa, Hiram Greenwood felt somewhat of a headache.
This great uncle had been "playing dead" here for three days without giving a reason, only saying he was waiting for Gem Atkinson. Then he kept urging him to contact Gem Atkinson to find out when he would arrive.
Hiram Greenwood was now Gem Atkinson's confidential secretary, in charge of all internal and external affairs of the presidential residence, equivalent to the chief steward of the presidential residence. Given orders by the great uncle, Hiram Greenwood did not dare to shirk his duties and repeatedly contacted the presidential hotline to confirm Gem Atkinson's itinerary.
"Uncle, the President's private jet will arrive tonight," Hiram Greenwood said.
Yigol Foster, who had been "playing dead," flipped over and asked, "What time?"
"If there are no accidents, at seven o'clock."
"Good, I will go prepare dinner for them."
