"How can you, how can you." Bart pointed at Claude with trembling fingers, his voice sounding like an old and decrepit refrigerator.
"What did I do? I’m avenging my mother, is there a problem?" Claude retorted.
"You were able to kill them, does that an you’ll kill too, thinking I’m the culprit behind your mother’s death, wanting to kill to avenge her?" Bart was terrified by Claude’s thods of revenge, as if for the first ti, he realized this son was not as magnanimous and gentle as he appeared, but rather vengeful and incredibly patient, with ruthless thods. Bart’s hand under the table began to shake uncontrollably.
Claude watched as Bart’s lips, which still had a trace of color, suddenly beca bloodless and said with a smile, "What are you thinking about, all these nonsensical things? I wouldn’t kill you, after all, you’re my father, the one who gave life. I can kill those with whom I have no blood relation, but I can’t kill you. What’s more, my mother loved you so much, and you haven’t been bad to over the years. All I want is the Calvin Family, which rightfully belongs to . You’re my father, I want you to live, to see marry and have children."
Claude’s expression looked devoid of deceit, and since Claude never deigned to lie, hearing this, Bart couldn’t help but feel sowhat relieved, but the old butler standing behind Bart couldn’t relax.
In Claude’s eyes, Hannah and her people coming and jeering as the culprits behind his mother’s death, then what good could co of him, who didn’t try to stop them but instead went along with it? He’s probably dood to a grueso end as well, and thinking this, cold sweat started to flow uncontrollably down the butler’s face, from his forehead to his chin.
Claude’s gaze fell on the old butler, the smile in his eyes deepening, but it was tinged with the coldness of frost and wind, "Is it hot in here? Why is the butler sweating all over his face? Shall we open a window to let so air in?" Claude asked, pretending to be oblivious.
It was only when Claude spoke that Bart rembered the old butler standing behind him, and he also recalled what Claude had said just now. After all, the butler had been with him for many years. Bart couldn’t bear to see him stand there in fear and said, "You can leave now, there’s no need for you to watch over here."
The butler hesitated for a mont, but eventually walked out of the study, though his legs were weak, and he had to lean against the door for a while before he regained his composure.
The room fell silent for a mont, no one speaking, but the sound of Claude flicking the lighter on and off went on incessantly.
After a while, it was Bart who broke the tense atmosphere, "He’s been with for decades, and has seen you grow up. You’ve already sought revenge for what happened back then, he’s not young anymore, so please spare him."
"Father, do you have so sort of misunderstanding?" Claude’s semi-smiling expression made Bart stop the plea he was about to continue.
"What misunderstanding?" Bart asked dryly, following Claude’s words.
"No one but can save your company now, even if you’re still not planning to hand the Calvin Family over to , I can find my own ways to obtain it. The reason I accepted your invitation today is not because I can’t get it, but because I don’t want to go through the trouble. So your insignificant requests, in light of saving so much trouble, I’m willing to indulge, but this doesn’t an you can control or make do things I dislike, understand?" Claude put away his smile.
"You can only negotiate with because I allow you to. If I don’t, what qualifies you to negotiate? I was planning to fulfill so of your small wishes, but it seems you’ve confused what ’small wishes’ an and have overextended." As he said this, Claude’s face once again donned a mocking smile.
"You! You!" Bart stared at the Claude who revealed his sharp fangs, eyes wide, but he dared not point or say anything rash. At this mont, regret overwheld Bart, for not seeing through his son’s wolfish ambition sooner, and for not clipping his wings when he was still young, leading to a situation beyond redy now. Claude’s influence was now beyond his control.
"My ti is very precious; I give you three more minutes, if we can’t reach an agreent, I will indeed make a drastic move. The business world is like a battlefield, I will not show rcy." Claude looked at Bart as he spoke.
All of Bart’s words were stifled by Claude’s harsh and threatening gaze, and he could not utter half a sentence.
As ti ticked away, Bart eventually, with humiliation, agreed to Claude’s terms in the last ten seconds, but he demanded that Claude support him until his dying day, and during this ti, not mistreat him and provide adequate support and face-saving.
As for his children and the long-ti butler, he’d done his best to fight for them, failing was not his fault; it could only be said that Claude was adamant about not letting them off easily, and there was nothing he could do about it. Bart thus deceived himself.
Claude had no objection to Bart’s conditions, nodding in agreent. To Claude, these were trifling terms, so the two reached an understanding. In a few days, after the paperwork was finalized by the lawyers, the head of the Calvin Family would officially transfer to Claude.
Claude placed his lighter back in his pocket and stepped out of the study with light footsteps. When his gaze caught the old butler standing at the study’s doorway, a aningful smile graced Claude’s lips, making the butler’s body stiffen.
Claude had no idea how long the butler had been standing outside listening, or how much he had heard, but he knew from this point on, Bart would never have peaceful days again.
What good is it for soone to be wealthy? If I don’t act, what can he do? Supporting him until he dies, what of it? Sotis, living is the real suffering; death instead brings closure, why doesn’t he understand?
Claude’s eyes were nearly overflowing with derision.
Standing in the Calvin Family’s estate, Claude turned to gaze at the distant buildings, his expression inscrutable. The people holding binoculars by the window observing Claude frowned deeply, a sense of impending crisis unfurling within them and bursting forth.
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