"Uncle, we can definitely agree with Victor, this is our chance!"
In the guest room of the National Palace, the decoration was very luxurious, resplendent with gold; even the walls boasted gold sculptures, taken from the homes of drug traffickers. Those desperadoes also liked shiny gold things.
Thanks to the drug traffickers... those bastards for the "movement funds" they sent.
Bramo Ramsfield was a bit restless, pacing back and forth, his hands alternately stabbing and pulling out from the table, his face showing... excitement.
Belsaria, sitting beside him, and Bramo's father, Ulrich Ramsfield, also nodded. Their eyes were red and swollen, and their faces were worried. He could sow seeds around the world precisely because his family was powerful and had many people willing to give them money.
But with Donald dead, if no one stands at the top or upper echelons, they might slowly disappear like other families...
Time is also the best knife!
