If it weren't for the sliver of reason he still clung to, he'd probably be cursing this damn lighter. Even you—you're bullying me too?
But when he saw the tens of thousands of US dollars scattered on the ground, his heart ached again. He hurried to the door and picked it up.
Just as he bent down, the door suddenly burst open from the outside. With a loud bang, he was sent sprawling onto his back.
The sharp pain from his head immediately ignited his rage. "You bastard! What the hell are you doing?! Did your father die, or is it your mother?!"
The secretary who'd pushed the door open hurriedly helped him up. When she heard his words, she froze, then gulped hard. Her pupils contracted. "Sir, Mr. Reagan… was blown up in San Diego—he's dead!"
Robert's head snapped up, the bump on his forehead and the pain forgotten in an instant...
"No… no way, you must be joking, right?"
