United States. Washington.
Northwest K Street No.1301.
This is the headquarters of the "Washington Building"!
At this moment, on the 7th floor, Belsaria Ramsfield is dressed in a black business suit, her hair tied up, looking very capable, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and jeans...
Tsk tsk tsk, her figure is nicely outlined.
A pair of eyes sneakily watches from behind the office curtains.
"Brutus, I'm telling you, don't set your sights on her, she's not someone you can mess with." A middle-aged man with a tie is sitting in the back of the office, looking refined, with a cigar in his mouth.
The young man at the window relaxes his hand, and the curtain snaps back into place, revealing his face, pale from indulgence, with dark circles under his eyes, wearing expensive clothes and sporting rings on his fingers.
Such signs are considered "trophies" in many law firms.
"Is her status very high? Am I not enough?" The young man, one of the youngest partners at "Magic Circle" law firm, arrogantly spreads his hands and smiles, frequented by celebrities and lacking no commoners.
Even, in a few years, he could leverage this status to go into politics.
The middle-aged man, vice president of the Washington Post, hears him and laughs meaningfully, shaking his headAlthough he said nothing, it was as if everything had been said!
"Alright, work's over, want to go for a drink?"
The young man shakes his head. He saw Belsaria Ramsfield leaving and hurriedly opens the door to chase after her.
"What a fool driven by his lower half."
Seeing him , the vice president frowns and says, not very clear about Belsaria's background but his intuition tells him something is off...
So he left, otherwise, he would have taken advantage of her already.
And it would have been to someone else?
"Belsaria." Brutus calls out with the handsomest smile he thinks he can muster, and as she turns around, he nonchalantly shows off his $100,000 watch, "Are you free tonight? I know a great restaurant."
Belsaria smiles and shakes her head, then turns and enters the elevator, while Brutus's smile freezes, and he rushes in too, getting very close to her. She immediately shows her discontent and moves aside.
But he shamelessly moves closer again.
"Mr. Brutus, please have some respect, I have a boyfriend."
The promising lawyer from "Magic Circle" law firm feels a stab like an arrow through his heart upon seeing the agitated lady.
Lust clouding his mind, and he doesn't know where the courage came from, but he suddenly pins her against the elevator wall, attempting to kiss her.
"Get off! Asshole! Get off!!!" Belsaria did not expect this to happen, screaming in terror, and hits him on the head with her handbag, kicking him in the groin.
Brutus's face turns red, he kneels, clutching his groin.
At that moment, the elevator reaches the lower floor, and Belsaria runs out in panic.
Brutus's eyes bulge, feeling elated, praised by many, any woman considered sleeping with him an honor, and he had dated women more beautiful than Belsaria, but they all loved him!
It should be your honor to please him!
If being polite doesn't work, just force it.
He's a lawyer, isn't he capable of winning any case?
Even the most certain cases can be overturned, after all, justice in the United States is only spoken for the poor!
Brutus, still clutching his groin, rushes out of the elevator, grabbing Belsaria and cursing loudly. Many bystanders look on in shock.
Someone hurries over to pull him back.
He kicks the man trying to intervene away, his eyes fierce as he watches the woman running out the door.
A small packet of white powder falls from his pocket.
Sure enough, he was on drugs, otherwise, no self-proclaimed elite American lawyer would act this way in public.
This "Hell No.1" was concocted by Ye Zhenli and her team, affecting the personality gradually within half an hour of consumption, not suddenly.
Meaning, you never know when you might lose control!
And after consumption, the tendency for violence is severe.
But likewise, their combativeness is also heightened, making it deeply beloved by drug traffickers and the underworld, popular worldwide...
Outside the Washington Post, there is a red sedan with two men inside, the radio playing Michael Jackson's "Dirty Diana."
Suddenly, they hear a scream, turn their heads and see a woman running out in disarray, with a man clutching at her.
"Miss Belsaria!" The person in the passenger seat curses sharply, "Fuck!!!"
"Here we go, put the hoods on!" The driver grabs a Balaklava hat and puts it on.
They belong to the Mexico Special Service Bureau assigned overseas, mainly responsible for Belsaria's safety, and according to Director Casare's intentions, to deal with any male approaching her with bad intentions.
"What to do?" The passenger asks, looking back at him.
"Our boss's woman is not someone just anyone can bully."
"There's a United States Secret Service car 200 meters behind us." The passenger hesitates.
"What are you afraid of, kill him and follow the plan to leave."