Meanwhile, a tense, oppressive silence filled the Lincoln family’s ancestral hall.
Helena stood before her worthless second son, Jagger, her face a mask of cold fury. The cane in her hand tapped a sharp, rhythmic beat against the polished floor tiles.
“You useless fool!” she seethed, her voice trembling with rage. “It was only last year that I paid off your massive debts! And now you’re back at it, throwing away money in some filthy underground casino!”
The tapping grew louder, more frantic.
“And as if that weren’t enough, you let our mining operations in Myanmar get exposed before we had a chance to divest! Now the family’s business is suffering, and our reputation is in tatters!”
She jabbed the cane toward him. “And do you know who betrayed you? Your favorite little mistress! What are you good for, besides women and gambling?”
Jagger knelt on the cold stone floor, his face pale, his body trembling. He couldn’t comprehend how someone had managed to uncover all his dirty secrets. He kept his head bowed, too terrified to speak.
Just then, the butler hurried in, his face grim. “Madam, bad news. We’ve just received word from Myanmar. Interpol has issued an arrest warrant for the head of our mining operations.”
Helena swayed, nearly losing her balance. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and glared down at the pathetic figure of her son.
“Look at what you’ve done,” she whispered, her voice laced with venom.

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