Forty-some minutes later, Lincoln Harrison got out of the cab with Molly Wellington in his arms.
He looked up at the top-tier luxury condominium towering more than fifty floors high in front of him, a trace of curiosity showing on his face.
Molly Wellington, an out-of-town university student, actually lived in a downtown mansion where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold.
If the address Shannon Cooper sent was correct, Molly Wellington's unit was on the very top floor.
For a top-tier mansion in this kind of location, its price was no secret to Lincoln Harrison, who had long since started investing in real estate himself.
Lowering his gaze, Lincoln Harrison looked down at Molly Wellington, who was cradled horizontally in his arms, dead drunk, still frowning as if she were in great distress; his eyes grew a shade darker.
Molly Wellington did not look like the kind of girl who would sell her body to take shortcuts.
All of this must be her family backing her, then.
