Goldsand Plant.
The moment Mr. Seehorn hung up the phone, a cold, cruel smirk curled across his lips.
That lunatic wanted to come here?
And demanded that he, the chairman of Goldsand, personally go to Lacy Corporation to beg for a contract?
What a joke.
Who did that insane bastard think he was?
What did he take Goldsand for—some grocery store?
And what did he take Mr. Seehorn for—some pushover he could squeeze at will?
Still sneering, he grabbed his phone and started dialing.
Tonight, he would end this problem once and for all.
He’d cripple that crazy bastard’s “third leg,” turn him into a permanent eunuch—someone who could only hug Sarah Lacy but never sleep with her. The thought alone twisted his face with ugly pleasure.
And thinking about Sarah—
her beauty, her curves, the w
