The real life of an American police officer: Winning over others with virtue

Chapter 39: Dark Corner (Please Read)

Hearing this, which seemed like something he had heard before, Eric couldn't help but laugh. He had previously thought that the lawyer his step-parents had been working with was a good one, but now it seemed that there was something fishy about him.

Do you think he is a fool?

"Oleg!"

Eric put away his expression and looked into the void before him. "I'm a patrol officer. Although the court and the police are in different systems, I also know that probate usually only takes 6 to 12 months."

After these words fell, there was no response from the other side. Eric didn't care what this guy was thinking at the moment, and just continued:
"Unless you've delayed filing your documents with the court or haven't filed them yet."

Eric

Oleg's voice sounded, as if he wanted to explain something, but was interrupted by Eric.

"I will only give you two days, Oleg. After two days, I want to hear the exact time, exactly when the money will arrive.

This is the last chance I give you. If you were not my parents' long-term partner, I would have
Also, I want to give you a suggestion, it's best not to do anything evil, otherwise you will know the consequences, believe me, I am not kidding."

After saying that, Eric hung up the phone and looked at it. The faint music from the phone came to his mind. He was silent and then stood up to clean up the leftovers on the table.

He doesn't care about the rest of the money, but even the emperor can't take his money.

A VIP room of a members-only underground bar.

A middle-aged man in a suit, looking respectable, pushed away the girl next to him, sat up straight on the sofa, looked at his phone with a black screen, his face became much gloomier, and he cursed as if he remembered the conversation just now.

"Fuck!"

"Hey, what's wrong, Oleg? Judging from your appearance, is it that crappy patrolman calling?" A voice full of arrogance sounded.

Oleg took a deep breath and looked at a man sitting next to him.

The man was leaning on his back with his legs crossed, and holding a woman in his right hand who was wearing rather revealing clothes. She was wearing a navy blue suit with the third button of her collar open, which made her look a bit flashy.

But the hideous scar below the collarbone, the tattoo lines around it, and the scorpion tattoo on the base of his left hand that was tapping the wine glass, moving in rhythm with his fingertips and hitting the wall of the glass.

Every aspect of this man reveals a disturbing sense of danger.

Oleg knew where this sense of danger came from.

Quentin Gobert.

The boss of the Greystone Lane Brothers gang, the Greystone Lane Brothers gang he controlled rose to power in just one year, controlling the Koreatown section of Normandy Avenue at the junction of West Adams. They used cheap apartments, abandoned warehouses and underground nightclubs as their strongholds, and their methods were quite ruthless.

There also seems to be a fair amount of illegal transactions going on with some Koreans in Koreatown.

In addition to these, as far as he knew, this gang had committed more than ten innocent murders in addition to the usual gang fights.

The reason why he was involved with this gang was because he was fighting a lawsuit for Quentin's brother.

Simply put, it was intentional.

"Huh? Did I guess wrong?" Quentin showed a rather evil smile on his face and bent over to the table.

There was a piece of paper with white powder on it on the table. He put his nose close to it and took a deep breath.

hiss!
Quentin seemed to have been shocked in an instant. His eyes widened, his whole body trembled, and he shook his head violently. Then, after the veins on his face appeared, he tilted his head and stared at Oleg.

Seeing this, Oleg felt a chill run down his spine from the other person's gaze. "Yes, that guy."

"Sure enough." Quentin showed an expression of extraordinary enjoyment, his mouth wide open, then shook his head and stared at Oleg.

"I heard that kid has no other relatives alive now, and he's the only one left?" Oleg gritted his teeth and nodded. "Yes, I checked it out."

"What do you think? If I kill him, can I keep the money?" Quentin said with his eyes wide open and red veins in them.

Hearing this, Oleg sighed inwardly, subconsciously thinking of Eric's threatening words just now, but his presence here tonight already represented his attitude.

Eric has no relatives and is alone.

Once such good conditions are missed, it will be difficult to come back.

If Eric died, he, as the trustee in charge, would have many ways to swallow up the money.

He can intercept the inheritance by falsely reporting management expenses, applying for special labor fees, or fabricating creditor claims.

You can also take advantage of the 72-hour window period to temporarily transfer funds to an overseas account (such as an offshore company in the Cayman Islands) in the name of "emergency asset protection" and then evade accountability by claiming investment losses.

Quentin could even buy a forged genetic test report on the black market, fabricate the identity of a "distant cousin", and use a sum of money to bribe the judge to speed up the inheritance confirmation process.

It is also possible to launder money by splitting $1000 million into individual cash deposits of less than $1.
Too much is too much.

So he became greedy, as mentioned above, since Eric was just one person, he just wanted him to die.

Looking at Quentin who was waiting for an answer, Oleg nodded.

"Hahahahaha!!! Good!" Quentin seemed to be suddenly excited because of the effect of the white powder just now. He stood up and danced with his hands and forcibly pulled up the confused Oleg.

Accompanied by the cheers of the people around them, the two hugged each other and danced, and the exciting music kept playing, lingering in the entire VIP room.

"It's agreed that I'll take seven and you'll take three."

Oleg stared at Quentin with wide eyes: "Quentin, we are not."

But just as he finished speaking, he was interrupted by Quentin who grabbed his neck with both hands: "Shh, don't talk, now is the best time, I'm in a great mood, Oleg! Shh!!!"

Oleg opened his mouth but dared not speak or move, for fear of disturbing Quentin's "good" mood. He looked at Quentin, whose face was distorted and seemed to be ill, grabbing his neck with both hands and shaking his head, and a trace of fear flashed in his eyes.

"This madman! Damn it! Madman!"

He felt like he had made a mistake.

How could they cooperate with such a lunatic?
In the morning, the sun rises slowly, driving away the darkness and illuminating the entire earth.

Eric, who was lying flat on the bed, suddenly opened his eyes. He subconsciously glanced at the faint light coming through the curtains, reached out and picked up the mobile phone on the bedside table and took a look.

"It's seven o'clock."

He stretched, groaned, and got up from the bed and walked towards the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Eric came out with water droplets on his face. He walked slowly to the bedside table, picked up the watch on it slowly and methodically and put it on. Then he picked up his cell phone before walking out of the room.

He is getting ready to go to work and fight for attribute points.

After having a fried egg, some hot toast with jam and a glass of milk for breakfast, Eric continued to walk slowly towards the garage.

The whole process was nonchalant and quite casual.

Not long after, the garage door was raised, and with a bang, a ferocious-looking Ford Raptor pickup truck, shaped like a giant beast, rushed out, quickly moved onto the road, and sped away.

Behind the receding Ford Raptor, the automatic garage door slowly descended...

(End of this chapter)