Kobi Taylor clenched his fists tightly, blood rushing up, unable to hold back the sweet and fishy taste in his throat, and coughed out a mouthful of blood.
His vision went dark, and the deputy manager, shocked and pale, rushed forward to say, "I have to send Mr. Taylor to the hospital!"
"I... I can hold on." Kobi Taylor mustered his strength and whispered hoarsely, "At this critical moment, I can't let anyone know that I'm sick."
He couldn't collapse at such a crucial moment. He had to hold on to have a chance to reverse the current situation.
He had put in so much effort, turned to so many connections, and planned for several years in order to achieve something. He had even thought that the entire West Grove and Philadelphia would eventually become his own world. All he needed was just three to five years to achieve it.
Who would have thought that before his grand plan was unveiled, he would be driven into a dead end?
