"I'm next!"
A portly tycoon stepped forward, his face flushed with excess fat.
"Fatty liver! Hypertension!"
"And me?"
"Cirrhosis, blocked blood vessels! Showing mild signs of a stroke!"
"What about me?"
"You?" William Cole frowned.
The tycoon chuckled lightly, "What? Can't figure it out?"
Cole shook his head, pitying the tycoon profoundly, "You're infertile! And it's severe; it's virtually impossible for you to have children if you don't get treated.
Do you have any children?
If you do, I suggest a DNA test!"
"What?!" The tycoon's face dramatically changed, and he excused himself, "Mr. Hayes, I must leave at this moment."
And after that, he rushed out of Thirteen Hall like a bolt of lightning.
"What was that about?" Cole wondered.
Silas Hayes was rather embarrassed. "Ahem, he has three sons…"
"Hahaha!"
