Jacob was so anxious that beads of sweat poured down his forehead. Meanwhile, Owen lay on the ground, disbelief written all over his face.
"Dad, why did you hit me? What did I say wrong?" Owen exclaimed.
"Shut up! All you ever do is talk about Gloria, throw parties, drink, and have fun. You never care about the company, you fool! Now you've offended the Roberts family and Mr. Martin. You're driving me to a dead end!"
As Jacob spoke, he started to cough, his face turning red with frustration, his eyes bloodshot. Trembling, he approached me and said in a pleading tone, "Mr. Martin, I'm begging you. I built Robinson Group from scratch; I can't bear to see it disappear."
I looked at Jacob, filled with deep emotions. Owen was certainly a jerk, but Jacob seemed truly pitiable. Finally, I cou
