Jude waved his hand with mild annoyance, “Don’t give me that crap. When a man has nowhere else to go and no means of survival, he can only think of how to survive by any means. If you don’t like it, that’s your business. I just want money. What do you think your father would do if word of his son from an extramarital affair ever got out? The perfect Tremont Enterprise, built from generations of Tremont blood, sweat and tears, would be gone, along with your father’s kindly image. This would definitely make headline news. If you don’t give me the money, I’ll have no choice but to sell the Tremont family secrets to the media. Then, the media will certainly help you unearth your long-lost brother, who’d come back to take half of the family fortune. You’d lose even more. I don’t want much, just give me a hundred million and I’ll be off your back.”
Mark’s face seemed to lack emotions. He picked up the phone on his desk and called Henry. Henry walked in and handed him a cheque, “Sir, are you sure you want to do this?”
Mark calmly wrote a sum of money on the cheque, “Do you have a better idea?”
Henry kept his mouth shut from then on. Jude impatiently snatched the cheque from Mark’s hand, “I always knew that you were a good nephew. Don’t you worry. I will never breathe a word about the Tremonts. Aside from your father’s bast*rd son, there are also a few rotten scandals from two generations of the Tremont family. I’ll let them all rotten in my stomach then.”
Mark curled the corners of his lips into a half-smile, “I believe that you... will let it all rot in your stomach.”
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