Aron was at the end of the corridor on the sixth floor of Los Angeles Memorial Hospital's inpatient department.
Aron lit up a cigarette and held it in the corner of his mouth. His gloomy face seemed to be showing his resentment.
"Beep, beep, beep..."
Aron's phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Mason, I just received news that the Lennard Group has held an important meeting. Abert's younger brother, Trent, volunteered to go to the Dragon Boxing Club to collect the debt!" A report came from the other side of the line.
"I got it."
After saying that, Aron hung up the phone. Aron looked at the glass window in his eyes and saw a cold smile on his face.
As the president of the bank, Aron could be considered to have the easiest access to information on anyone's account.