Charles Mcintosh pressed Yacob Harry closely, giving him no chance to fight back.
Tensions were high in the living room as rain poured down outside the window.
The relentless downpour outside continued to roar, lending an especially delicate air to the atmosphere.
"Your pride isn't worth a dime in the face of prison disaster," Yacob Harry sneered. "Once you're incarcerated, you won't have any room to maneuver. By then, your corporation will have gone bankrupt, and your house will be confiscated..."
"Sylvan Cheney," Sylvan looked down at the middle-aged man on the ground, "will it be me going to prison first, or will you not live to see tomorrow's sun, hm?"
"Even if I don't see tomorrow's sun, you'll still have to go to prison." He had the air of someone willing to go down with the ship.
Smuggling was indeed a serious crime.
He held all the evidence in his hands.
Charles Mcintosh stepped on Yacob Harry's shoulder with his leather shoe, preventing him from moving.
