Nobody saw it. That seemingly eloquent Mr. Hoover in the news had a million-dollar check tucked in his suit pocket. Nobody knew who gave it to him, but the signature seemed somewhat like that of the Duanmu family…
Public opinion is rapidly fermenting and growing stronger. This trend has sounded the alarm bells for Flander. He understands that this can no longer be a spontaneous act by the media and netizens. There must be someone pushing things along, and there is definitely more than one murderer!
The Duanmu family, as the main protagonist and culprit in this matter, is certainly one of the perpetrators, but only one. Those other conglomerates that also have friction and competition with Morgan will likely not stand idly by, such as that scoundrel Rockefeller family! Besides the business world, there are definitely people involved in the political arena as well.
The election is just around the corner, and the Chicago mayor's seat is coveted by many! Even a minor councilor would love to try, but the current mayor, Jerome, is too strong; they can't beat him. They thought all hope was lost, but then this unexpected event happened, leaving them with no choice but to give it a shot.
When a wall falls, everyone pushes it down; it's always been this way since ancient times, so no one can blame anyone else...
While Chicago Mayor Jerome was struggling to explain to the Illinois governor in his office, Morgan's current leader, Friend, was also furious. He threw down his newspaper and growled under his breath.
"Knock knock!" Someone is knocking on the door.
"Get out!" Flander shouted at the door. "I'm not seeing anyone. Tell them the meeting is canceled!"
The shout was effective; there was a moment of silence outside the door, as if the person who knocked had left. Just as Flander lowered his head to tidy up the messy office, the door opened by itself, saving him the trouble of knocking!
Flander was tidying up his documents at his desk when he heard someone walk in without even knocking. He was furious and was about to look up to see who was so reckless when his hand suddenly stopped, and he couldn't make a sound, looking quite surprised.
"Hello, Mr. Flander." Duanmu Ci's smile was beautiful, like the sunlight streaming through a window. He gestured with the gift he was carrying. "I think we could have a glass of fine Scotch whisky." (To be continued.)
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