[A guy like that still dares to call himself a family head? My gosh! Did he lie his way into the position?]
[I always thought a family head’s word was absolute. Turns out they can just talk nonsense too? Hell, in that case, even I could be one! When I can’t deliver, I’ll just say, ‘Oh, I was joking.’]
Jamie’s been kidnapping people and causing injuries-how’s he any different from that oil tycoons’ spoiled son or the other heirs we heard about just now?]
[Hand the evidence to the police! Let the law deal with that sucker!]
[Don’t be so naive. This is Marcentine we’re talking about—a textbook capitalist state. Submit the evidence today, and it’ll mysteriously ‘disappear’ tomorrow. If the law could truly punish the rich, would so many villains still be walking free?]
[Then that means whoever suggested handing the evidence over to the police earlier had ulterior motives!]
[Wasn’t that Sharon’s brother? Tsk, tsk… He really can’t stand seeing her do well, can he? Probably wishes she were dead so he could split her shares.]
As the flood of scathing comments filled the screen, Jamie’s eyelid twitched violently.
He could already imagine tomorrow’s ridicule-the endless gossip, the mockery. His reputation would crumble overnight, and with it, the Walton Group’s stock would plummet.
No one wanted to do business with a ruthless, deceitful man who broke his word.
Partners might have known what kind of person he was in private, but having it exposed for the entire world to see was something else entirely.
Now, in this storm of public outrage, no one would dare defend him. No one would risk standing by his side.
Jamie’s jaw tightened. His lips pressed into a bloodless line, his face black with rage, eyes glinting with
murderous intent.


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