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After getting enough sleep, he went to his office at the charity commission.
It had becquite a habit of his to go to the office every day and have a good look at his "wealth".
Just a look at it was enough to make him feel energetic the whole day.
Today, he entered the office as usual, closed the door and closed all the automatic curtains.
He made sure no one could ever see him from the outside.
He rubbed his hands and excitedly took down the oil painting on the wall.
When he looked at the safe behind the painting, he was almost drooling.
He skillfully pressed his fingerprint, entered the code, and with a click, he opened the safe.
He froze.
Unexpectedly, it was empty.
He thought perhaps he was just not completely awake yet, so he rubbed his eyes.
He looked again and still there was nothing.
He felt his heart was about to explode and hurriedly reached inside the safe.
All he could feel was the cold, hard stainless steel, and the coldness constantly reminded him that it was empty, all empty!
His mind went blank.
The first thing that cto his mind was that he must inform Otis.
The only person who knew that he had a vault, other than himself, was Otis.
He trembled and shivered as he took his phone out of his pocket.
He called Otis's private number.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtWhen dialing the number, his fingers kept trembling, and he just could not get the numbers right with his trembling fingers.
With great difficulty, he held the phone tightly with both hands. That way, he could only barely control the fierce trembling of his
fingers, and finally made the call.
After about a dozen rings...
Otis finally picked up the phone, and he sounded slightly impatient.
"What's wrong? I'm busy!"
"Mr. Robertson..." Mr. Clark stammered, "Could you please cto my office?"
"What am | supposed to do in your office at all?!" Otis asked irritably.
"Oh, God!" Mr. Clark's eyes widened, and the beating of his heart had becso violent that he couldn't control it himself.
"What's wrong?" Otis noticed his unusual voice.
"Money, money ... vault ... my money ... all gone ..."
Mr. Clark had not been able to say a full sentence at all. His body kept shaking, and his face had been so pale.
"What money? Can you even say it properly." Otis seemed to be furious over the phone.
Unfortunately, Mr. Clark's phone slipped from his hand and fell to the ground with a "pop" and the screen was instantly shattered.
He rolled his eyes, and suddenly he began convulsing. “Boom.” He finally fell to the ground.
It was over. He knew he was having a heart attack, but he had the door to his room closed and no one outside could see him fall to
the ground, much less likely that someone would cin to give him first aid.
He curled up on the ground twitching, and his veins were popping up on his face and neck, and he was running out of breath.
He reached out and his hands were now full of wrinkles.
His eyes were full of hate and reluctance, and it seemed that he still could not believe what he saw.
"Money ... money ..." He hissed, but he could not even hear his own voice now.
At the other end of the phone, only Otis's furious roar remained.
"Hey, hey, idiot! What the hell is going on? Con!"
"Hey!"
"Asshole!"
Mr. Clark's powerless hand slowly dropped and his eyes closed forever ...
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