"Take them away first? Haha, Mr. Nicholas, you Aricans are famously shaless. Don’t co to with those empty promises, or else I’ll chop the bodies up and sell them to feed the pigs to the farrs in Texas."
Slam!
After hanging up, Victor looked at his secretary, Krista Schroeder, and teased, "A nation born of swindlers and bastards and I was convinced of their morals—do they even possess such a thing?"
Krista Schroeder smiled, but her smile was sowhat rigid.
"Is sothing on your mind?" Victor suddenly asked, picking up a Cal cigarette from the desk, propping his elbows on the surface, and lighting it with a suave flick of a lighter.
Then, tossing the lighter onto the table, he looked at her, "Don’t hide it from ."
He had noticed her mood was off, but who the hell cares about a woman’s feelings in the middle of a war?
There are always a few days like that.
But now, with the gloom on his shoulders gone, Victor felt up to asking a few more questions.
After all, she’s soone close to him.
Ms. Krista Schroeder looked at Victor with a complex expression, opened her mouth, "I’m pregnant."
???????
Victor’s hand froze, he turned his head, looking a bit dazed... and startled.
His first action, though, was to snuff out the cigarette in the ashtray.
His face showed joy yet was tinged with seriousness. Furrowing his brows and tugging at the corner of his mouth, he looked at her, "When did this happen?"
Seeing his reaction, Krista felt a sinking feeling in her heart, "Two months now."
Victor took a deep breath and didn’t ask if she wanted to keep it.
Such a question was too foolish—what woman wouldn’t want to be a mother?
"From now on, you’ll be the office director. Let soone else handle the nial task of delivering docunts. If you don’t want to work, then don’t. I’ll give you two hundred thousand US dollars a month."
"No, I can work. I’m still capable."
"I can give you whatever you want, but you have to understand, I can’t give you the status you want. Don’t harbor any illusions. My relationship with Belsaria is solid."
Even if there’s conflict with the United States, it doesn’t an there’s conflict with the Rumsfeld Family that’s behind it.
And besides, having witnessed the power of the Northern xican Army, that old tir Donald is likely still calculating in his head.
Krista Schroeder fell silent for a mont, feeling resentful. She was a woman of Victor’s, and the child she bore should have the best resources!
Like those of the British Royals!
Grood from a young age.
But she was smart. She knew if she disagreed or made too many demands,
Victor would make her disappear.
Disappear, in the strictest sense.
"I... I understand."
Victor nodded and pressed the phone, "Call Casare to see ."
About three or four minutes later, a sweaty and breathless Casare knocked and entered.
"Why the rush?"
"Boss, when you call, no matter how far, I’ve got to co."
Victor nodded, pointing to the secretary, "I want you to take care of Krista Schroeder. She’s pregnant."
Casare’s brain short-circuited. Congratulatory words almost spilled out, but he quickly caught the political implications.
The boss’s woman was pregnant, and he was asked to take care of her? It didn’t make sense.
So people are just cut out for this kind of work; he glanced at Victor’s expression and quickly realized what was expected. Slapping his chest, he said, "Boss, you leave her to , I’ll raise her child as if it were my own."
"This matter, it stays between the three of us..."
"Boss, Krista Schroeder will live with , and if necessary, she’ll ’marry’ , and the child will be mine."
Only then did Victor nod in satisfaction.
"What do you think?" he asked, looking toward Krista Schroeder.
She felt a surge of sorrow.
"You go and rest. Let speak with Casare."
Krista Schroeder wiped away a tear and left, feigning strength.
"I know exactly what this woman is thinking, and I can’t give her any illusions. Otherwise, the inner house will be unstable. The child she bears may be my first, but cannot inherit everything of mine."
Casare nodded.
The story of the prince and the ugly duckling is just that, a story. Like why poets and writers fancy writing about the supernatural, about having an affair with a female ghost?
What doesn’t exist is always fresh.
After all, power, wealth, and status are transmitted through blood.
If Victor’s future wife were to be Belsaria, it would yield many political benefits, and the Northern Army needs this kind of "backing"!
"That would be my first child," Casare said with a smile.
"You’ve worked hard."
"Why say such distant words, boss? Everything I have is because of you. Even if you commanded to die right now, I wouldn’t hesitate!"
"There’s no need for such talk between brothers. Just do your job well. Cuauhtémoc is, after all, an outsider."
Casare froze, his brain went blank in an instant.
It was as if he was hearing: The Crown Prince is ill; put more effort in.
When he left the office, one phrase lingered in his mind, Could I beco the president?
Could I?
But his eyes soon cleared.
Following the boss would surely lead to success!!
He glanced at his watch, went downstairs, got in his car, and drove to the nearby ntal hospital.
There were guards at the gate, ard!
When they saw Casare, they saluted and let him through imdiately.
In the garden of the ntal hospital, he saw his mother, pushed by a nurse, with her long hair shaved short, sitting in a wheelchair, holding a teddy bear, her gaze vacant, having lost a lot of weight.
Camila Sodi was too noisy in the hospital, often spouting nonsense.
Like, Victor was brought up by my son!
My son is the real Governor.
Casare had the dosage of her dication increased, turning his own mother into a true ntal patient.
He walked over, waved the caregiver away, who nodded and left.
"Mom, I’ve co to see you."
There was no response. Casare gently squeezed her shoulder, as if chattering as usual, "Mom, have you had your al?"
"al?"
Camila Sodi responded, albeit slowly, "al, right, I want food, my Casare hasn’t eaten yet."
As she spoke, she caressed the bear in her arms, "Don’t be scared, Casare, mom is here. I’m about to make you so food, to make sure you’re well fed."
"Boss, can I have so money? My… my child has nothing to eat. I want to buy him so bread. Just 10 Pesos will do, thank you, boss, thank you."
Camila Sodi began to babble again, continuously nodding, as if thanking soone.
"Eat, hey, eat more, Casare. Grow tall so you can be successful. Don’t drink like your father, and don’t beco a drug trafficker. Study hard, go ahead and eat. Mom has already eaten. I ate... ate at the factory, lots of at and fish, ate really well."
Casare stood behind Camila Sodi, listening to her murmurs, lifted his head, and tears suddenly filled his eyes.
He rembered being sick with a fever as a child, 38°C, his mother carrying him through the heavy rain to beg soone, kneeling before a drug trafficker, hoping he could save her son. The man, impressed by her strength, gave her 10 US Dollars.
It was that 10 dollars that saved his life.
"Casare, don’t be afraid, mom is here, mom is nearby, mom isn’t hungry, mom isn’t hungry…"
Casare broke down, silently shaking with his shoulders, and hugged Camila Sodi from behind, pressing his face against hers, "Mom, don’t bla , don’t bla Casare, you caused too much trouble. If your son wasn’t ruthless, you would’ve lost your life!"
"Casare… my son." Camila Sodi’s gaze was empty, her lips only murmuring these few words.
It’s not that the boss isn’t good to .
But if I don’t act, then Victor would let soone else do it more gracefully!
The sky remained very blue.
But...
All is predestined, not within human control at all!!
...
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