The Fall of the Old King (Part II)

Crash, crash.

All the precious porcelain on Patrick's desk was shattered.

Hearing the noise, Xiro rushed in. Seeing Patrick slumped helplessly in his chair, his face pale, he asked with concern:

"Sir, things have come to this. Your health is important. Why not take some time to rest at home?"

Patrick nodded. His mind was in disarray, and he indeed needed a brief rest to regroup.

He opened the door and looked at the empty house. Patrick asked where the servants were.

Xiro answered that they had the day off.

Patrick was slightly displeased with Xiro's initiative, but he was too exhausted to be angry.

"What about my wife?"

Patrick asked weakly.

"She seems to be in there,"

Xiro pointed toward the basement door.

"Why is she in the basement?"

Patrick muttered, opening the basement door.

He had a splitting headache and urgently needed his young wife to massage his temples.

As soon as Patrick opened the door, he clearly heard the sound of his young wife's heavy breathing.

The sound was both familiar and strange.

Familiar because he often heard it, strange because he had never heard it with such intensity.

Patrick, driven by the natural instinct to claim ownership, quickly realized what had happened.

Furious, he rushed down into the basement.

The basement light flicked on, and the main actors of this twisted scene froze in place.

Seeing his son entangled with his wife, both naked, Patrick's forehead throbbed uncontrollably.

How could he endure being cuckolded by his own son?

He grabbed a nearby horsewhip and lashed out at the pair.

But as he did, he suddenly felt something wet underfoot.

"Patrick, let me explain,"

his young wife tried to justify.

"Shut up, woman!"

A horrible feeling surged through Patrick's mind.

He bent down and touched the sticky substance on the floor, bringing it to his nose.

Wasn't the ethanol for brewing homemade liquor supposed to be stored outside the villa in the warehouse?

Why was it here?

A terrifying thought struck Patrick, and he quickly turned to look at the basement door.

Standing there was a dark figure, who casually dropped the half-smoked cigarette.

Flames ignited.

"Nice work."

Phis said to a visibly troubled Xiro.

"This fire won't burn quickly, but you can go upstairs to Patrick's bedroom and grab some valuables."

Xiro's eyes lit up. He knew several places where Patrick kept cash.

As he climbed the stairs, Phis cleverly retrieved the oil drums Xiro had hidden earlier in the kitchen and under the staircase.

He tipped them over, spreading oil across the entire first floor.

Then, following Xiro's earlier actions, he threw his cigarette butt on the ground.

At that moment, the screams from the basement stopped.

Upstairs, Xiro had secured the money and was grinning with excitement.

However, as he left the bedroom, he noticed the fire had already spread from the first floor to the second.

How could it have spread so quickly? Why hadn't Phis warned him?

Then, it dawned on Xiro: Phis might be trying to silence him.

He turned back to run to the bedroom, intending to escape through the second-floor window.

As he pulled back the curtain, he was filled with despair—the window was boarded up.

At the same time, at Lake Bay Manor, Patrick's cowboys had returned from their vacation in Richmond.

They had returned at this time as part of a long-standing agreement.

Whenever they returned, it meant that a guest was about to leave, and they needed to dispose of the girls by sinking them to the bottom of the lake.

When they opened the gates of Lake Bay Manor, Kent, accompanied by FBI elite agents, stormed in, with Jonathan and the town's police officers rushing forward.

The guests and thugs were caught in a net.

Washington.

Inside a luxurious mansion's study.

"Useless! I've given you so many resources, and in just a month, progress has been this slow."

Fox lowered his head, pretending to listen anxiously to the scolding.

He knew his boss well; his boss didn't like hearing excuses—only solutions. Getting scolded meant his boss still needed him, so Fox wasn't panicking internally.

Sure enough, after a while, his boss stopped scolding and grumbled:

"I'll give you another month with the same resources. What's your plan?"

Fox had been waiting for this moment. He quickly pulled out a stack of documents and said:

"I plan to join forces with another small construction company to split Jones Real Estate.

Once we've digested it, we'll unite with the mayor to swallow up the small company.

However, by then, we may need your influence in the bank to cut off their funding at a critical time."

Fox presented his plan clearly, and his boss was very satisfied.

"Sir, today's newspaper,"

A servant knocked and entered, placing the newspaper on the table.

The headline read: "Exposing the Dirty Secrets Behind Washington's Bureaucrats."

The subheading read: "The Devil's Manor from Lynchburg."

His boss picked up the newspaper, intrigued both by the Washington bureaucrats and by the information about Lynchburg, which pertained to his future financial plans.

After reading for a while, he threw the newspaper into the trash.

He had seen his secretary's name on the list.

Just then, the harsh sound of the phone rang.

While his boss answered the phone, Fox quietly retrieved the newspaper from the trash.

Looking at the contents, Fox marveled at the hellish world in his hometown.

But since it didn't concern him, he just viewed it as a curiosity.

He placed the newspaper back in the trash, only to see his boss return, his face full of displeasure.

This was a look Fox had never seen before.

He nervously asked:

"Sir, what happened?"

"You didn't mention in your report that the small construction company has already started competing with your target, Jones Real Estate."

Fox silently cursed the informant and quickly adjusted, sitting up straight to remedy the situation:

"Sir, the reason I didn't mention it is because that small company stands no chance against Jones Real Estate and the mayor's suppression.

I was thinking that once they can't hold on any longer, we could step in to help.

The company may be small, but its core team is very capable. I'd like to absorb them, which would benefit our business."

"Did they invite you?"

The question was so abrupt that Fox was taken aback.

"What do you mean, sir?" Fox asked.

"I mean, before they started competing with Jones Real Estate, did they invite you to join?"

"I, sir, I don't think we need to get involved in such a risky business."

Fox's answer greatly disappointed his boss.

"Your skills aren't the problem, but you've been in logistics for so long that you've lost the competitive spirit that's most valuable in business.

Now, Fox, I need you to go back to Lynchburg and merge with that small construction company you mentioned."

Fox's face lit up in surprise as he stood up. He hadn't expected his boss to get rid of Leo's company with just a phone call.

"Sir, I'll go back right away. With the talent from that company and your financial support, I'll make our company even better."

"No, no, Fox. It's not just you, but you and your company need to join that Lynchburg real estate company."

Fox's expression froze. He asked in shock:

"Why, sir?"

"First, I don't need people who are afraid to take risks.

Second, a big shot in Washington owes that Mr. Valentino a favor.

You and your company are here to repay that favor!"