Morales couldn't hold it in anymore, bending over and retching violently, tears and snot streaming uncontrollably.
A wave of nausea rose from his stomach.
"Urgh—You...you fucking... beast!!"
He finally caught his breath, wiped his mouth hard with his sleeve, and lifted his head to glare at Marquez, his eyes filled with shock and disgust.
Marquez sneered, "Hernan, drop that phony facade of yours! I'm not human? And what about you? Are you some goddamn clean thing? Those fake medical records for insurance fraud, which one didn't have your department's stamp of approval? Those 'special supplies' allocations and laundering channels, aren't they under the control of you and your little brother-in-law? You weren't stingy when it came to sharing the profits! And now you're preaching humanity to me? Pah!"
"Fuck off."
"Think you can keep yourself clean after wiping your ass?"
He spat, ignoring Morales whose face had gone ashen, grabbed the phone on the table, and dialed a number.
