"Mr. Cheney, the news traveled pretty fast, huh? Can't blame me for this—finance has the fiscal authority, so I had no choice, no choice at all," Jesse Rowan said with an especially innocent tone.
"The Cheney Family hasn't even been handed over to you yet, and you're already messing with my people?"
"It's only a matter of time. Why are you so worked up, Mr. Cheney?" Jesse Rowan teased while sipping his drink.
"Whatever you're up to isn't my concern, but here's a word of advice: take it easy. If you want to replace someone, you'd better make sure your wings are strong enough first."
"I'm no fool, Mr. Cheney. Of course, I'll pick someone better for the finance department. No need for you to worry about it..."
Before he could finish, Sylvan Cheney hung up the phone.
Outside the balcony was a clear, immaculate sky.
Sylvan took a drag from his cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke, his tall shadow cast upon the wood-grain floor.
There was a deep, mysterious light in his eyes.
