Dejoka and Shire got out of the car in front of Francis's villa.
They waved goodbye to Brownie and the others as the car sped away toward the Marne River, where sparse gunfire and occasional artillery sounds could be heard from the front lines. Shire guessed it was the French Army's 75MM field guns.
Led by the servants, the two walked into the villa and vaguely saw Francis and Pierre discussing something with a few people in the living room, where it seemed red wine had been set out.
Just as Dejoka was about to approach and greet them, the butler Simon courteously stopped and said:
"Mr. Dejoka, Young Master Shire, the master is discussing business with guests. He instructed that if you arrive, you should wait for him in the study. He has something to discuss with you!"
Dejoka responded with an "Mm" and led Shire upstairs.
Shire deliberately slowed his steps while climbing the stairs, trying to listen to the conversation in the living room.
Though he couldn't hear clearly from a distance, he caught the word "tank," immediately understanding the situation.
Noticing Shire lagging behind, Dejoka turned around and asked in confusion, "What is it, Shire, are you tired?"
"No, Father, it's nothing!" Shire responded, quickening his pace to catch up with Dejoka.
In the antique study, the butler thoughtfully served coffee to Dejoka and Shire: "If you need anything, just let me know."
"Thank you, Simon!" Dejoka stretched his limbs in the chair; the taxi had been quite cramped, giving him a feeling of oppression.
Taking a sip of coffee, Dejoka turned his gaze to Shire, who was casually browsing the bookshelves, and asked, "Are you sure someone will buy the tank ownership at a higher price?"
If not, they would face suppression from the two hundred old military-industrial family businesses, which Dejoka wasn't confident about handling, as the other side controlled vastly superior wealth, connections, and power.
Even if they had to oppose them, Dejoka felt now was not the time.
Therefore, selling the ownership to strengthen their own capabilities seemed the best option for now.
"I'm sure!" Shire replied calmly, "Because they're downstairs!"
"Clang!"
Dejoka was so shocked that he dropped his coffee cup onto the saucer, spilling some coffee onto his pants.
"You're saying..." Dejoka, half skeptical, took out his handkerchief and wiped while asking Shire, "The ones discussing with Francis downstairs are here to buy the tank ownership?"
Pulling out a book, Hugo's "The Man Who Laughs," which exposed the decadent, corrupt, and unscrupulous upper-class French nobility, Shire casually responded while flipping through it:
"Father, if I'm not mistaken, they likely offered a considerable price."
"Mr. Francis asked us to avoid them so as to..."
Shire didn't finish, knowing Dejoka's attachment to Francis might be totally severed.
Dejoka's face turned pale, and he stared dully at the half cup of coffee in front of him, struggling to say: "To take the profit away from us?"
Shire didn't answer, as this was for his father to decide.
"No, it's impossible!" Dejoka shook his head slightly, "He wouldn't do that, you're his own grandson..."
"Father!" Shire interrupted Dejoka, "When Mr. Francis comes up, he might look for an excuse to demand the ownership or exchange it for what he deems an exchange. You should think about how to respond!"
Dejoka remained silent, unwilling to believe Shire's words, but inexplicably felt an urge to escape with Shire.
…
In the downstairs living room, the butler whispered something to Francis's ear. Francis nodded slightly, stood up, and bowed: "My apologies, gentlemen! I have some matters to attend to, please continue discussing the details!"
Nodding toward Pierre,
Pierre understood, immediately taking over the topic and amicably continuing the conversation with the guests. He was very skilled at this.
Francis took the damp towel from the servant, wiped the sweat from his forehead and hands, and casually threw it back, giving a look upstairs before heading toward the study.
As he walked, he thought:
"Sorry, Dejoka, and Shire."
"If it weren't for Camille in the first place, I might have treated you and Pierre's family equally."
"However, after neglecting you for nearly twenty years, how can I ensure Shire isn't seeking revenge for everything he has done, and you, don't you hold any grudges?"
In the living room, Pierre glanced at Francis's back as he went upstairs, a hint of profound meaning and relief flashing in his eyes.
Francis hesitated briefly outside the study door, then pushed it open with a smile: "Dejoka, Shire, have you been waiting long?"
"No, Father!" Dejoka replied expressionlessly, "We just arrived a while ago!"
Noticing Dejoka's odd expression, Francis asked sideways, "Did something happen?"
"Oh, no, nothing!" Dejoka covered up, "It's just… Camille was frightened by the gunfire, and I'm a bit worried…"
Francis laughed: "Don't worry about that, we've stabilized the front lines. Paris has sent reinforcements, I heard the 6th Army is assembling and will soon launch a counterattack against the Germans!"
Turning his gaze to Shire with a kindly smile, he added: "Thanks to our Shire, we have this situation!"
"It's my duty, Mr. Francis!" Shire replied very politely.
Francis nodded approvingly and then seemed to remember something: "Did you hear? Jarell is coming back!"
Jarell, Pierre's eldest son and Francis's designated heir, had been studying in Britain.
"Is that so?" Dejoka replied emotionlessly.
"Yes!" Francis raised his eyebrows, "Next time, bring Camille along, the Bernard family should take this opportunity to gather!"
Dejoka hesitated; Father had never invited Camille before. Did this mean he acknowledged both her and Shire?
Dejoka suddenly relaxed and excitedly said: "Alright, Father! It would be an honor. I…"
"Let bygones be bygones!" Francis waved his hand, "You've raised my grandson admirably; that's worth recognizing!"
Giving Shire an approving look,
Dejoka breathed a sigh of relief, giving Shire a meaningful look, as if to say: This time you were wrong, Shire, Grandfather just wants to acknowledge us!
Shire pretended not to hear, continuing to flip through his book. He knew the most important part often came later.
Francis continued: "But there is an issue, Dejoka!"
"What is it?" Dejoka asked.
"Here's the thing!" Francis turned solemn: "Jarell received a draft notice and has to return. We need to resolve this problem!"
Dejoka's heart tightened: "You mean..."
Francis continued: "I'm thinking, can we let Jarell have the tractor factory to produce tanks and machine guns, so he can be exempted from the draft as a special talent? In exchange, I'll let Shire manage the motorcycle factory!"
The joy faded from Dejoka's face, replaced by disappointment, anger, and sorrow.
Francis seemed to notice Dejoka's change and spread his hands: "I know it's unfair to Shire, but… you don't want Jarell to be drafted, do you?"
Unfair?!
The tractor's potential was discovered by Shire, and it was about to sell big. Francis was snatching it away from Shire!
And shamelessly stealing Shire's tank invention!
Even the machine gun factory obtained by Shire's suggestion was being stripped away!
What's left for Shire was the valueless motorcycle factory, and he was only to "manage" it, meaning Francis could take it back anytime!
He wanted to take everything from Shire, offering only a verbal acknowledgment of Shire and Camille's identities!
And that's just unfair?
Dejoka rose slowly, his tone unusually calm:
"Sorry, Father!"
"Unfortunately, we just returned from Paris and registered the tank's industrial property this morning, and already have a buyer!"
"So, if Jarell wants the tank production rights, I think there might be some issues!"
Francis was shocked: "You registered the property? And negotiated a deal with a buyer?"
Shire was astonished, knowing the truth wasn't so, as the tank ownership wasn't yet secured. His father seemed like a different person!