Jimmy Simmons lowered his head and lit the cigarette in his hand.
He didn't speak, just watched the cigarette burning between his fingers, inhaling the faint scent of tobacco in the air, tinged with a burning warmth.
Finally, the silence was broken.
Jimmy Simmons spoke up, "The Simmons Clan has no plans to compete for this development project."
His words were casual and offhand, a sarcastic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The Simmons Clan was never his to dictate alone. On the surface, those people were respectful, feigning a facade of loyalty, but when it came down to it, they were all just a bunch of old fellows driven by self-interest.
Whoever could bring them greater benefits, they would heed.
Clearly, that person would only be Arnold Simmons.
The few old shareholders who had squawked about Arnold's impure lineage had been dealt with by Arnold himself, now too scared to even fart.
A bunch of fools.
