The Dangerous Wealthy Punk

Chapter One Hundred And Seventeen

A long hush extended between them. At long last, Mr. Joseph talked, his voice dry. "Take off. Presently. And do not tell anybody you were here."

The youthful man gestured, alleviation washing over his confront. He stood up, tucked the envelope back into his sack, and rushed towards the entryway. Mr. Joseph observed him go, a wave of clashing feelings whirling inside him.

As the entryway closed delicately behind him, Mr. Joseph sank back into his chair. The long, run once clear in his vindictive interest of George Andrews, was presently covered in a thick mist. He held the key to unraveling a tremendous scheme, a unsafe bet with possibly annihilating results. The taste of the brandy in his mouth turned sharp. He had ended up a player in a diversion he didn't get it, and the prize at stake was distant more prominent than he might have ever envisioned.

Rest avoided him that night. He hurled and turned, the implicating envelope a steady nearness on his bedside table. The weight of it felt