Donald turned around, walked behind the desk, sat down in the director's chair, and tapped his fingers against the table. “What about Neal Beck? Haven’t we sent someone to keep an eye on him?”
“About this...” Chunky lowered his head. “That person hasn’t come back yet, and I’ve failed to get into contact with him.”
All the items on the desk were instantly swept to the ground—the most direct eruption of emotions occurred without warning.
Chunky did not dare to say a word. He did not even dare to breathe.
His expression looked gloomy and sulky. “That useless piece of sh*t! It seems he’s been discovered.”
“Even if he’s been discovered, no one will ever suspect you.”
“Oh, really?” Donald glared at him. “Manuel has been exposed, and the Southern Clan knows that he and I are connected because of the account book, and it’s just a matter of time for them to start to suspect me.”
Chunky was at a loss for words.
Donald rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back into the chair. “That wo
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