Chapter 46: Ruined

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The contract paper fell in half, and slowly hit the discussion table with a velvet sound.

The president and I were the only two people standing in the room, and soon enough, a third person joined.

"Wh-What did you just..." she tried muttering. Her lips suddenly seemed dry.

Paris Fiore.

Well, I wasn't any less surprised. No one was, frankly speaking.

Did he really just do that?

He didn't, did he? Did he?

He didn't just cancel the whole project right after signing its contract.

Is he completely insane?!

He's willing to pay ninety percent of his year earnings?! Can he?! Why? What the heck is he aiming at?

"Mr. Dowell still has the letter from the unknown until now. He still has hopes in finding who has killed his wife." He shot Sarah's father a look; and the latter pulled a piece of paper out of his chest pocket.

It looked old, and rotten, but it also looked like it really had been taken good care off.

Sarah directly neared the piece of paper, it looked like a letter.

She picked it from the table, and sniffed it.

"This scent..." She muttered, tears welling up her eyes, "It's... mama's scent..." A tear strolled down her beautiful cheek.

Mr. Dowell nodded nostalgically.

"I perfume it daily with the cologne your mother used to apply. It was the scent that was stuck on the message after the incident." He sighed deeply.

"I wanted to keep her scent with me forever."

Tears welled up my eyes this time.

Sarah's father... truly loved his wife. Although his daughter didn't forgive him, I highly bet he did so himself.

Yeah, he didn't. If he did, he wouldn't have kept the message in hopes he'd find the murderer.

I looked towards that president; he shifted slowly to grab the message paper from Sarah's hand, and examined it.

He then took a piece of the torn contract paper in between his fingers, and slowly switched looks between it, and the message paper.

His eyes deepened with absolute concentration and analysis, combined with a sharp and accurate glint of silent observation.

After a minute or so, the cold and handsome Adam spoke.

"You're ruined, Alfred Fiore."

The sentence hit us harder than a hammer of steel.

Paris Fiore turned pale, and her eyes had widened to unimaginable extents.

Her father was in an also similar shocked state; his eyes and mouth were similarly wide as he gazed at the president with disbelief.

The latter was still eying the two papers in between his hands.

A laugh echoed through the room. A hysterical, insane laugh.

I looked at the source, and Mr. Alfred Fiore was now also standing, a huge abnormal smile plastered against his old face.

"What a half-wit!" he laughed, "You think I'll be ruined by paying ninety percent of my earnings for one year?! I'm an indestructible man! One year of loss stands nothing before my uncountable years of success!!" He continued laughing hysterically, while he gestured with his hands as if explaining.

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