Chapter 914: A Corpse Also Has Its Value and Drawing Pies

Mr. Richard's wife hadn't had dinner with Mr. Richard for some time.

Men are always like this.

When they have mastered power, and possess wealth, they have to lose their families. This is inevitable.

When you are focused on one thing, it is very difficult to take care of other things. Career, family, all require a lot of time, and are difficult to balance.

For someone like Mr. Richard, who manages a huge company that is in trouble, he needs to deal with many things every day, as well as socializing, networking, and everything else.

Tonight, he was able to come back and have dinner with her, instead of going to some "New Year's Eve party" held by a big shot, and then coming back the next day with the smell of women's perfume all over him.

For Mr. Richard's wife, this was already very, very touching!

She had prepared a lot of delicious food. Besides him, today their daughter was also at home.

"It's been a long time since our family has spent a key holiday together."

She was close to the table, holding a knife in one hand and a fork in the other, her face full of smiles. It seemed that at this moment, she had become the happiest person!

Perhaps the fatigue on his body had been melted away by his wife's heartwarming smile. A smile also appeared on Mr. Richard's face. He made a promise against his heart.

"In the future, we will spend all the important days together!"

Perhaps he himself also knew that this promise would not come true, which was why he had, when he had said it, not hesitated.

He couldn't do it, but a short-term "white lie" could.

Let's get through this beautiful day first!

"Really?" His wife was so happy that she was about to cry. She left her seat, walked to Mr. Richard's side, and hugged his shoulders. "I'm so touched!"

Mr. Richard's sense of guilt grew even more. He was even a little embarrassed. He looked at his girl, and made a helpless expression. Then he also put down his knife and fork and hugged his wife, and murmured, "Everything will be fine."

The two's actions had lasted for about a dozen or so seconds, and only then did his wife let go of him and return to her own seat. The family began to enjoy their New Year's Eve dinner in harmony.

Just as it was almost eight o'clock, they had almost finished eating. The atmosphere of the whole dinner was very good.

Mr. Richard had brought out his humor and wisdom from the business world, which had made his wife and daughter always laugh out loud.

For a husband, a father, this was undoubtedly the best reward!

Perhaps seeing that her father was in a good mood, Mr. Richard's daughter had mustered up her courage and had said, "I have a boyfriend."

Mr. Richard was stunned for a moment. He glanced at his wife. The other party seemed to have known about this long ago, and then his gaze had moved back to his daughter. "Don't tell me, I'm the last to know!"

His daughter was a little apprehensive, but she still nodded. "You are always so busy, and it's also very difficult for us to meet or sit down and chat."

"There were a few times I wanted to tell you, but you told me to go and tell mom."

Mr. Richard vaguely remembered this. He slapped his forehead. "My God, what have I missed?!"

He looked at his daughter. "Alright, first tell me about that boy. I have to confirm that he is worthy of you."

This sentence had made his daughter breathe a sigh of relief. She began to say good things about her boyfriend.

At this very moment, the doorbell suddenly rang. Mr. Richard glanced at his watch. It was eight o'clock.

A few more smiles appeared on his face. He saw that his wife was about to get up. He took the initiative to stand up. "I'll go. It might be someone sending me documents. You know, I've been very busy recently!"

He gave his wife and daughter an affirmative look, and then he hurried to the door.

He had ordered a large bouquet of flowers, ninety-nine of them, and also a necklace, which was placed on the flowers.

He was going to give his wife a romantic, sweet New Year's Eve, one that she would remember in every New Year in the future.

The doorbell rang a few more times. He strode over, saying, "Coming, coming. Don't be in such a hurry, brother!"

He had, almost without any consideration, directly pulled the door open, and then had seen a guy in a thin cotton-padded jacket standing outside.

He was wearing a baseball cap. The light from the doorway was shining down, and the extended brim of the cap had blocked the light, leaving only a dark, shadow-covered, and indistinct outline of a face for Mr. Richard.

His gaze fell on the other party's hand. The person's hands were hanging naturally at his sides, and he was wearing kidskin gloves—

As for why he knew they were kidskin gloves, it was because he also had a similar style of gloves.

Kidskin is very thin, with a layer of velvet inside or nothing at all. This can fit the user's hand to the greatest extent, especially for some highly skilled leather craftsmen, who can make it to the point where people don't feel like they are wearing gloves.

In the other party's right hand, Mr. Richard had found a handgun.

He was stunned for a moment, and then a chill had in an instant exploded in his body!

He couldn't even open his mouth to speak!

The next second, the man at the door had raised his handgun. At this moment, the desire to survive had overcome the brain's control of the body. Mr. Richard had ducked and had turned to run.

But his speed was far from being able to match the speed of a bullet.

The sound of the bullet was very small, because it was a small-caliber handgun with a silencer. A few meters away, there was almost no sound.

Of course, this also made the effective killing range of this gun very limited, only fifteen meters.

In a field battle, fifteen meters is definitely not enough, but in a room, fifteen meters is definitely enough.

Three bullets had all hit Mr. Richard, two in his head, and one in his back.

With a thud, he had fallen to the ground, but had not died immediately.

Although his brain had been severely damaged, his only remaining ability to think and his consciousness were still there. There was no change in his expression. He had tried to open his mouth, wanting to shout, but he couldn't.

The mother and daughter in the room had heard the sound of a heavy object falling in the corridor. Mr. Richard's wife had subconsciously asked, "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Do you need me to help you with something?"

As she spoke, she had stood up and had walked towards the door.

Hearing the voice, Mr. Richard, who was on the verge of death, had his eyes fill with tears in a very short time.

In his life, after he had grown up, he had never cried.

Sometimes he would think, maybe if his parents, his wife, his children had an accident and had died, he would not have cried.

He had felt that he was a cold-hearted person by nature. He was good at acting, and sometimes he would act as a very emotional, very warm person.

But in his bones, he knew that he was indifferent.

He had always thought so, until this moment.

Maybe he was really crying, or maybe his brain had been damaged, and his tear glands had contracted uncontrollably.

In short, his eyes were full of tears.

He opened his mouth, the muscles on his face completely twisted, and his consciousness had also become not so stable, a little hazy. He watched as the shadow got closer and closer, and watched as a pair of slippers appeared in his line of sight.

It's over!

There was no scream, only a thud. His wife had fallen in front of him. Then he had seen a pair of black leather shoes, which had entered the room from in front of him, and then a few more gunshots had sounded.

About twenty seconds later, the gunman had come out of the dining room. He had noticed Mr. Richard's still-trembling eyes.

He had walked over, had stepped on Mr. Richard's neck with his foot, and then had emptied all the bullets into his head...

The blood on the floor had slowly spread into the house. In the end, Mr. Richard's blood and his wife's blood had mixed together.

The next morning, the people at the company, seeing that Mr. Richard had not come to work, and because there had been too many things recently, they could only give Mr. Richard a call.

It was a pity that the phone had never been answered. Then the company's board of directors had felt that something was not right, and had taken the initiative to call the police.

Soon the police had arrived at the place where Mr. Richard lived, and in the room, they had found him and his family's bodies.

The case had quickly alarmed the entire city's upper-class circle. After all, Mr. Richard was also one of the members of the upper class. His death had made some people become sensitive, and vigilant.

In the subsequent investigation, the police had gotten a piece of news that they didn't know if it was true or not.

The company had claimed that before Mr. Richard was murdered, he had once mobilized a batch of funds, and now that money could not be found.

As for whether Mr. Richard had really mobilized this batch of funds, for the members of the board of directors, it was not important. They were just making use of the waste.

Who had killed Mr. Richard?

The board of directors and the major shareholders had some guesses in their hearts. It was nothing more than that a few people were the most likely.

The insurance company, Lance White, and the workers who had been injured in the factory fire and had not gotten any compensation.

Only these people had the greatest grudge against Mr. Richard, and were the most likely to come to his door and kill him.

And the small-caliber handgun used by the killer had filtered out the ordinary workers. It was very difficult for them to get a small-caliber handgun. It either required a lot of money, or some opportunities, and connections.

Of course, the board of directors had not completely ruled it out. What if among these workers who had not gotten any compensation, there were some with a military background?

However, they had mainly put their focus on the two forces, the insurance company and the Lance Family.

As for whether they wanted to avenge Mr. Richard, in fact, they had no such thoughts at all.

They were capitalists. The purpose of a capitalist in doing anything is centered around interests. If they do something without any benefit, then they will not do it!

They were participating in the investigation, just to know who had made the move.

Mr. Richard's death had also made some of the actions of Gold Label Distillery completely stop, including the lawsuit against the insurance company.

Although the newly appointed president would continue to grasp this part, at present they had relaxed a little. Maybe they would have some new ideas.

After all, it was already the New Year. The New Year should have a new atmosphere.

The people of the Federation had spent the first day of the year in a happy atmosphere, but in Rapa, people were constantly falling down because of hunger.

It wasn't that they were really starving to death, but that they had eaten some things that they shouldn't have, or had been attacked by predators in the jungle and had died.

Because the people were too hungry, they could only go into the jungle to find some food, which had disturbed the predators in the jungle, and also the poisonous animals and plants.

Someone had eaten a mushroom, and had soon closed his eyes and had returned to God's embrace.

Someone had touched a good-looking frog, and as a result, he had soon, due to a cardiac arrest, fallen in the jungle.

Someone had accidentally stepped on a snake, and the snake had sent him a little of its venom, which was of the same price as gold.

Every day, people were dying in the process of looking for food. The people's dissatisfaction with the Rapa government had already reached its limit!

It was under such circumstances that Diego had given a public, broadcast speech. The entire territory of Rapa and the surrounding areas could receive the whole process of his speech.

In order to let more people know what he was going to say, and when he was going to say it, they had given a three-day notice in advance.

At two o'clock in the afternoon on January 1st, Diego had appeared outside the Presidential Palace, and the high-power radio station had also begun to work.

"Citizens of Rapa, I am your president, Diego..."

He had followed with a series of names, and also two pronunciations that Lance was not sure of.

According to the locals, this was a name in the local language system, and there was no accurate translation in the common tongue.

For Diego to have stated his full name on such an occasion, and also with the local pronunciation, was actually to declare his legitimacy, his authority.

This was like an ancient emperor, if he was not in his castle, but was outside, and he needed to negotiate, he would emphasize his own surname—the royal family!

Diego was doing just that. He was emphasizing these, to get the public to at least not strongly oppose him.

After all, he and his family had ruled Rapa for a long time, and they still had a certain foundation of rule.

Among the ruled, there were always some who were addicted to kneeling. They just liked to be ruled, to be exploited and oppressed. If there were not a few big mountains on their bodies, it was as if they would not know how to live.

There would always be some who would take the initiative to find excuses for his brutal rule, so sometimes ruling is an art, which requires the ruler to have political skills and a smart brain that surpasses that of an ordinary person.

But it's not always like this!

There are always some who don't need to use much of their brain, and can rule a group of people who also don't have much of a brain.

"For the recent events in Zhuolan, I feel deeply pained. What good people we have?!"

"It's just because they were instigated by some people, and were deceived by them, that as a result, they have stood on the opposite side of us, of the people, and have paid a heavy price."

"I believe that most people are kind, and I also believe that we can solve the current predicament."

"We have recently completed the first round of consultations with the Jede Republic on the issue of grain."

"We will get no less than 350,000 tons of grain aid. This grain is enough to help us to get through the end of winter..."

In fact, it was 500,000 tons, but he had not said it too fully. It wasn't that he and his ministers wanted to embezzle the 150,000 tons, but that this part would temporarily not be announced.

If there was really an environment and a place where this portion of grain was needed, then they would also take it out. It was equivalent to a final preparation.

As for how 350,000 tons of grain was enough for so many people to get through to the spring?

This was not Diego and the cabinet's problem, but the people's own problem.

According to a pound of food a day for a person, it was indeed not enough to last until the spring.

But what if a person only had a pound of food a week?

Wheat can be added with more water. It's not necessarily that food that chokes you is food. A thin gruel is also food.

In addition, with some other things, like the coarse fibers of grass and trees, and some other things that are not so easy to digest, you can also hold on.

He had also talked about the idea of providing more job opportunities. He had claimed to the public that the Rapa government was in cooperation negotiations with the federal government on the development of local resources.

Once the negotiations were settled, then at least hundreds of thousands of new jobs would be created, and they would be high-paying jobs.

Besides this, there was also the opportunity to work in the Federation.

Because a large number of young people had been conscripted into the army, and had gone to the front lines or were waiting in military bases to be called to the front lines, so there was a large-scale shortage of the young labor force.

Some jobs, it was no problem for the old men to do, but some jobs, especially the heavy manual labor, it was best for the young people to do.

They needed this kind of worker. Lance could ensure that at least 50,000 to 100,000 people would be recruited to work in the Federation.

Behind the 200,000 jobs, there might be 400,000 or 500,000 families, which could radiate and cover a population of at least three or four million, and would bring a huge change to their lives.

Diego's cabinet had also discussed this issue. At least one-third of the people of Rapa would go from being "destitute" to "poor," and there would also be a small portion who would become richer than the poor.

This way, it would be equivalent to the Rapa regime "coercing" this part of the vested interests. They would become the firm supporters of the Rapa government.

They were richer than others, and had the ability to act. Then they would become the best protectors of the power.

Lance was listening to Diego in the broadcast, constantly describing the beautiful future. He was sure that Diego must be reading from a speech, and this speech was not written by himself.

He did not have this level. If he had this level, Rapa would not be in this terrible state today.

Lance's attention slowly withdrew from the radio. He glanced at Gomez, who was standing in the corner. "Can you confirm the route and the time of this train?"

Gomez bent his waist and lowered his head. "Of course I can, Mr. Lance!"

"Although Diego is a little suspicious of me, he can't find anyone else who is suitable, so he has arranged for me to receive the first batch of grain."

Lance had a smile on his face. "Do a good job, Gomez."

"I know you want to touch the power of this country, but it will not belong to you, nor can it belong to you, so you don't have to think about it."

"You cooperate well with the work I have given you. At that time, I will give you the opportunity to go to the Federation, as a person of the Federation."

"To be a rich man in the Federation, isn't that better than being a bullied president in Rapa?"

Gomez had no displeasure on his face. "That's what I think too, Mr. Lance."

"Then the grain on this train?"

Lance gave him a map. "Draw out that railway, and then write down the time."

"You'd better think clearly before you put your pen to it, because you only have one chance!"

"Don't waste it!"