You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

"Leon is ultimately just a cop from the bottom of society. His behavior is like that of a mad dog driven to the edge of the street; he has no substance other than violence."

Old Sterling's tone turned somewhat cold. "A woman of the Sterling family should never develop any real feelings for a patrolman who only gets a fixed salary."

Old Sterling placed his wine glass on the small walnut table beside him and tapped his fingers lightly on the surface.

"Victoria's best option is to marry into one of those conservative financial groups on the West Coast, or into the family of a senator in Washington."

"She's still not married, which is already taking far too long."

"If she weren't doing so well in the West End, I would have called her back a few months ago and arranged her marriage."

"Her ultimate goal was to secure more stable political allies and financial support for her family, rather than to play a game of mutual exploitation and trust with a street cop."

Only then did he turn his head and look at the retainer who had been standing respectfully in place.

"As for what you just mentioned, the homeless program that Reynolds and Finch came up with."

Old Sterling leaned back on the sofa and gave the final verdict.

"We don't need to get involved. Nor do we need to seek media exposure."

The retainer nodded slightly.

"Since Victoria thinks she can do it, then let her handle this problem herself."

Old Sterling watched the fire in the fireplace gradually dim, his voice calm.

"Let's see if that young man has any other skills besides being able to draw a gun and kill people, when facing hundreds or thousands of homeless people with broken bowls."

"If they can't handle it, and thousands of homeless people bring chaos to the West End's security..."

Old Sterling picked up the whiskey on the table and drank the remaining amber liquid in one gulp.

"Then send someone to inform Victoria to come back to the manor and prepare for her wedding."

Old Sterling slammed his empty wine glass down on the walnut table with a dull thud.

He no longer looked at the intelligence chief who was bowing his head and waiting for orders, but instead swept his sharp gaze toward Richard and Robert in the corner.

"Take these two lumps of trash out of here."

Old Sterling pointed toward the door, his words filled with undisguised disgust.

"I feel disgusted just looking at them."

"Tell security that they are not allowed to step out of the manor for the next three days."

"If anyone dares to secretly let them out, they'll be thrown into the Pacific Ocean to feed the fish."

The intelligence chief immediately bowed slightly, turned to look at the two pale-faced young masters, and made a "please" gesture.

Richard wiped away his cold sweat, while Robert was still trembling. The two of them, like beaten dogs, scrambled out of the study following the intelligence chief.

The heavy oak door slammed shut behind them, completely cutting off any outside noise.

Now only old Sterling and McFarlane remained in the spacious study.

The oak firewood in the fireplace was still crackling.

The two remained silent. Old Sterling picked up the whiskey bottle on the table and poured another empty glass for himself and McFarlane.

The amber-colored liquor shimmered faintly under the dim light.

McFarlane picked up his glass, leaned back in the leather sofa, stared at the wine in the glass, and suddenly shouted.

"Old man."

Old Sterling didn't even lift his eyelids, only letting out a "hmm" from his nose, signaling him to hurry up and spit it out.

McFarlane took a small sip of his drink and said in a half-smile, "I remember, Victoria, that girl, never really got along with you when you were little, right?"

Old Sterling's fingers were on the rim of the wine glass.