"Madam Akna?"
"Come closer."
Caleb Plutus. Heir of the Plutus Bank. A crackhead with too much arrogance and too little brain.
Useful rat, but unacceptable as son-in-law. Even if it's just in the wave of the rumour, I can't be associated with him the way he is right now.
It's like being all dressed up in Chanel, yet reeking of sweat.
"I see the drug marks are still fresh…"
In a swift move, he covered the green needle marks on his neck. His breath, filling the room with the aroma of cheap liquor and cigars, got quicker and alert.
Pathetic.
But he does follow orders exactly the way he should.
The night the Prime Minister got murdered, Caleb executed every demand with more precision and care than I expected a junkie like him to have.
Of course, the survival of his father's business, of his future and his current lifestyle was grabbing on to the rope I offered him. He made sure he was holding to it with both sleazy hands since it was his last chance to save himself.
