Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 456 - 311: Everything is destined; nothing is controlled by us!_2

"Take them away first? Haha, Mr. Nicholas, you Americans are famously shameless. Don’t come to me with those empty promises, or else I’ll chop the bodies up and sell them to feed the pigs to the farmers in Texas."

Slam!

After hanging up, Victor looked at his secretary, Krista Schroeder, and teased, "A nation born of swindlers and bastards and I was convinced of their morals—do they even possess such a thing?"

Krista Schroeder smiled, but her smile was somewhat rigid.

"Is something on your mind?" Victor suddenly asked, picking up a Camel cigarette from the desk, propping his elbows on the surface, and lighting it with a suave flick of a lighter.

Then, tossing the lighter onto the table, he looked at her, "Don’t hide it from me."

He had noticed her mood was off, but who the hell cares about a woman’s feelings in the middle of a war?

There are always a few days like that.

But now, with the gloom on his shoulders gone, Victor felt up to asking a few more questions.

After all, she’s someone close to him.

Ms. Krista Schroeder looked at Victor with a complex expression, opened her mouth, "I’m pregnant."

???????

Victor’s hand froze, he turned his head, looking a bit dazed... and startled.

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His first action, though, was to snuff out the cigarette in the ashtray.

His face showed joy yet was tinged with seriousness. Furrowing his brows and tugging at the corner of his mouth, he looked at her, "When did this happen?"

Seeing his reaction, Krista felt a sinking feeling in her heart, "Two months now."

Victor took a deep breath and didn’t ask if she wanted to keep it.

Such a question was too foolish—what woman wouldn’t want to be a mother?

"From now on, you’ll be the office director. Let someone else handle the menial task of delivering documents. If you don’t want to work, then don’t. I’ll give you two hundred thousand US dollars a month."

"No, I can work. I’m still capable."

"I can give you whatever you want, but you have to understand, I can’t give you the status you want. Don’t harbor any illusions. My relationship with Belsaria is solid."

Even if there’s conflict with the United States, it doesn’t mean there’s conflict with the Rumsfeld Family that’s behind it.

And besides, having witnessed the power of the Northern Mexican Army, that old timer Donald is likely still calculating in his head.

Krista Schroeder fell silent for a moment, feeling resentful. She was a woman of Victor’s, and the child she bore should have the best resources!

Like those of the British Royals!

Groomed from a young age.

But she was smart. She knew if she disagreed or made too many demands,

Victor would make her disappear.

Disappear, in the strictest sense.

"I... I understand."

Victor nodded and pressed the phone, "Call Casare to see me."

About three or four minutes later, a sweaty and breathless Casare knocked and entered.

"Why the rush?"

"Boss, when you call, no matter how far, I’ve got to come."

Victor nodded, pointing to the secretary, "I want you to take care of Krista Schroeder. She’s pregnant."

Casare’s brain short-circuited. Congratulatory words almost spilled out, but he quickly caught the political implications.

The boss’s woman was pregnant, and he was asked to take care of her? It didn’t make sense.

Some people are just cut out for this kind of work; he glanced at Victor’s expression and quickly realized what was expected. Slapping his chest, he said, "Boss, you leave her to me, I’ll raise her child as if it were my own."

"This matter, it stays between the three of us..."

"Boss, Krista Schroeder will live with me, and if necessary, she’ll ’marry’ me, and the child will be mine."

Only then did Victor nod in satisfaction.

"What do you think?" he asked, looking toward Krista Schroeder.

She felt a surge of sorrow.

"You go and rest. Let me speak with Casare."

Krista Schroeder wiped away a tear and left, feigning strength.

"I know exactly what this woman is thinking, and I can’t give her any illusions. Otherwise, the inner house will be unstable. The child she bears may be my first, but cannot inherit everything of mine."

Casare nodded.

The story of the prince and the ugly duckling is just that, a story. Like why poets and writers fancy writing about the supernatural, about having an affair with a female ghost?

What doesn’t exist is always fresh.

After all, power, wealth, and status are transmitted through blood.

If Victor’s future wife were to be Belsaria, it would yield many political benefits, and the Northern Army needs this kind of "backing"!

"That would be my first child," Casare said with a smile.

"You’ve worked hard."

"Why say such distant words, boss? Everything I have is because of you. Even if you commanded me to die right now, I wouldn’t hesitate!"

"There’s no need for such talk between brothers. Just do your job well. Cuauhtémoc is, after all, an outsider."

Casare froze, his brain went blank in an instant.

It was as if he was hearing: The Crown Prince is ill; put more effort in.

When he left the office, one phrase lingered in his mind, Could I become the president?

Could I?

But his eyes soon cleared.

Following the boss would surely lead to success!!

He glanced at his watch, went downstairs, got in his car, and drove to the nearby mental hospital.

There were guards at the gate, armed!

When they saw Casare, they saluted and let him through immediately.

In the garden of the mental hospital, he saw his mother, pushed by a nurse, with her long hair shaved short, sitting in a wheelchair, holding a teddy bear, her gaze vacant, having lost a lot of weight.

Camila Sodi was too noisy in the hospital, often spouting nonsense.

Like, Victor was brought up by my son!

My son is the real Governor.

Casare had the dosage of her medication increased, turning his own mother into a true mental patient.

He walked over, waved the caregiver away, who nodded and left.

"Mom, I’ve come to see you."

There was no response. Casare gently squeezed her shoulder, as if chattering as usual, "Mom, have you had your meal?"

"Meal?"

Camila Sodi responded, albeit slowly, "Meal, right, I want food, my Casare hasn’t eaten yet."

As she spoke, she caressed the bear in her arms, "Don’t be scared, Casare, mom is here. I’m about to make you some food, to make sure you’re well fed."

"Boss, can I have some money? My… my child has nothing to eat. I want to buy him some bread. Just 10 Pesos will do, thank you, boss, thank you."

Camila Sodi began to babble again, continuously nodding, as if thanking someone.

"Eat, hey, eat more, Casare. Grow tall so you can be successful. Don’t drink like your father, and don’t become a drug trafficker. Study hard, go ahead and eat. Mom has already eaten. I ate... ate at the factory, lots of meat and fish, ate really well."

Casare stood behind Camila Sodi, listening to her murmurs, lifted his head, and tears suddenly filled his eyes.

He remembered being sick with a fever as a child, 38°C, his mother carrying him through the heavy rain to beg someone, kneeling before a drug trafficker, hoping he could save her son. The man, impressed by her strength, gave her 10 US Dollars.

It was that 10 dollars that saved his life.

"Casare, don’t be afraid, mom is here, mom is nearby, mom isn’t hungry, mom isn’t hungry…"

Casare broke down, silently shaking with his shoulders, and hugged Camila Sodi from behind, pressing his face against hers, "Mom, don’t blame me, don’t blame Casare, you caused too much trouble. If your son wasn’t ruthless, you would’ve lost your life!"

"Casare… my son." Camila Sodi’s gaze was empty, her lips only murmuring these few words.

It’s not that the boss isn’t good to me.

But if I don’t act, then Victor would let someone else do it more gracefully!

The sky remained very blue.

But...

All is predestined, not within human control at all!!

...