When Casare and the others learned that the boss's second son was named Bruto Kutuzov Vieri, everyone was silent, not even daring to breathe.
They were no longer Smooth Operators; they had read books and understood what these names represented. It seemed that the nominal "First Lady" Belsaria was not a simple woman either.
If one is not careful, a brotherly conflict is not unheard of.
Like Iraq now, the two brothers are just short of clashing.
Since ancient times, power has been a poison wrapped in honey; everyone wants a taste.
Xuanwu Gate is still bleeding.
"Let's go, ask logistics to find a few more experienced servants to take care of Belsaria."
"Understood."
Victor turned back to glance at the already pushed out Belsaria, squeezed out a smile, patted her hand, comforted her with a few words, and kissed her forehead before leaving.
Casare and Goebbels exchanged glances, their eyes slightly trembling.
