FortuneCraft in Apocalypse

Properties

“Now, tell me Jerome, what kind of poison was it?” He asked.

Jerome had lost the respect of being called a father a long time ago, but now he’d certainly lost the catch of it. The girls kept staring boldly at their parents. They had been mean and wicked, yes, but they never came off as someone who’d kill other people—especially since the mother risked the life of the whole family just so she could kill Draven.

“For you to understand me, you must hear the whole story,” Jerome said.

“I’m not sure I’d ever understand your actions, but I have the whole night, man. Let’s get right into it.

With that, Draven walked back to the seat. He bent it back and forth, mimicking a rocking chair.

“Your mother was stubborn,” he started. “She would not give me any of her properties, not even one to be put in my name.”

Draven clicked his tongue, disappointed. “You started off in such a way that people would be compelled to listen to you, Jerome, only for you to spill this rubbish. So greed moved you to