The Fool's Gold

A Madman's Fury (2)

"Or what, boss?”

Sullivan's gaze snapped back to the phone, his eyes narrowing. "Not something you should know, nose poker," he growled, his tone brusque. "Get your nose off it."

He paused, collecting himself, before continuing in a calmer tone, "Make sure you keep your eyes, ears, and nose open to perceive and see and hear anything."

With that, he ended the call.

The guards remained silent, their eyes fixed ahead like statues, as Sullivan sat back, his mind whirring with the possibilities.

He knew that this turn of events could either solidify his power or bring about unforeseen chaos, and he was determined to stay one step ahead.

As Sullivan pondered his next move, the atmosphere in the golden room grew increasingly tense, the air thickening.

The president's son was a master manipulator, and the pieces on his chessboard were shifting rapidly, like pawns in a high-stakes game.

He had to act swiftly and decisively to maintain his advantage, to stay one step ahead of the players.