Chapter 225: Mastermind Lynch Solves the Dilemma

Before leaving, Gap asked a question that left a strong impression.

“Am I going to die?” Standing at the door with one foot already outside, he almost left but stopped and turned to ask.

Will he die?

It was a worrying question. In many films and real history, some key figures sacrificed their lives unwillingly to protect certain secrets.

The best way to keep a secret is to silence everyone forever. No one is more reliable than the dead, at least when it comes to keeping secrets.

Neo shook his head. “We might lose some money now, but if you disappear, we’ll go to jail.”

Gap breathed a sigh of relief and left without looking back.

Shortly after, a man emerged from a hidden door behind Neo—it was Chairman Alben, Neo’s wife’s father.

His face showed no panic, the wine in his glass was still, steady as a stone.

He locked the office door behind him and asked the same question Gap had asked: “Will he die?”

This time Neo wasn’t so easygoing. He nervously bit his nails.

Biting nails was a bad habit, but sometimes hard to break. Neo did it when deeply troubled, to calm his nerves.

Alben watched Neo. After a minute or two, Neo came back to himself, his expression complicated. “Can you bear it?”

His voice was full of reluctance. “Decades of effort could become nothing in an instant. We’d become the failures we once despised. Can you bear that?”

“Can you bear to lose your assets, your social status, all your pleasures, and live like an ordinary man?”

Neo knew that if Liston got into trouble, the board would turn against him immediately. Expecting shareholders to help the company survive? That was a pipe dream.

Everything they had done before and would do later could bankrupt them and land them in jail.

As chairman of a public company, falsifying financial reports and deceiving investors—causing huge losses—is enough to keep him locked up for a long time.

Freedom, wealth, status—everything would end because of a few foolish actions.

Accept fate?

Can you bear it?

Decades of effort—he and his father-in-law had repelled countless greedy eyes and hands, overcome many obstacles, only to stumble on flat ground.

Can you bear it?

This question was not only Neo’s to Alben; it was also a question to himself.

If he could let go, it wouldn’t be so hard—immediate compromise, confession, maybe a reduced sentence or no prison time, on the condition he forfeited all his wealth.

But he couldn’t. Everyone knows money is just numbers, yet he couldn’t let go.

Neo glanced out at the clear weather, his gaze stretching far away. “I hope he can hold on…”

No one wants to take extreme measures before the last moment.

At the filming location, Lynch looked up at the sky—clear and cloudless, sunlight pouring down warmly even through thick clothes.

Such weather in winter was truly refreshing.

The Foxes’ film shoot had been interrupted by a strike—not because they were involved, but some participated to prove their “working-class stance.”

This massive strike, seen by real workers as a war, looked like a bothersome farce to others, slowing down their earnings.

Once the strike ended, those people returned immediately, eager to finish filming and get their pay.

The Foxes invited Lynch to join them, talk, watch filming, and discuss women’s professional football.

Lynch had gained great fame in Sabin City through one football game—maybe he didn’t realize how well-known he was, but the Foxes, rooted in the grassroots, knew well.

Many considered Lynch Sabin City’s savior—the savior of football and sports lovers. Rumors even said he planned to build various other sports teams, boosting his fame further.

The Foxes might not afford professional football themselves, but women’s professional football might be possible. They wanted to try organizing a match, so they invited Lynch.

The three stood beside the set. After the director cleared the scene, they stayed. The director dared not object—they were investors.

With a deep breath, the director called “Action.” The female lead appeared from backstage wrapped in a towel, stunning all three men instantly.

A star like her couldn’t be ugly—not just average or slightly attractive. She had at least an 85% attractive face and 90% figure. Before the three men, she confidently dropped the towel and entered the shower.

Many wonder why such beautiful women act in these films. Even with support, couldn’t they have better lives?

The answer is simple: money. And they wouldn’t choose you because you have none.

Fox glanced at his son disapprovingly. “You should close your eyes.”

Fox Jr. smiled, “I’m grown up. Do you think I haven’t seen this before?”

Most parents with basic values avoid exposing kids to embarrassing scenes. When couples kiss or hug on TV, they cover kids’ eyes or send them out.

Fox raised an eyebrow. “You’ll always be a kid in my eyes.”

Fox Jr. laughed, no argument—fighting an unreasonable father is pointless.

Fox, bored, returned his gaze from the woman to Lynch. “Our football team is formed and we have a coach. Shouldn’t we start putting them to use?”

Lynch nodded after a moment’s thought. “Let’s do it this weekend, Saturday. I’ll have the field trimmed and invite some people.”

He was talking about President Elena. The concept and discussion of women’s professional sports are still developing. Making a significant change is never easy.

It sounds simple to just get women onto the field and treat them like athletes, but in reality, people still view them with bias.

This is a good opportunity to gather women’s rights groups and give women’s professional football some early exposure. People will be interested.

At least, a football game features far more women than bodybuilding competitions. The men watching at home with tissues and remotes know what to choose.

“Take a walk?” Mr. Fox suggested. Lynch glanced at him, and they left the set.

They chose a quiet, out-of-the-way path.

“I’ve run into some trouble lately…” Old Mr. Fox frowned. “You know, not everyone can pay back the principal and interest. And I still have to deal with you… haha.”

Lynch said nothing, so Mr. Fox continued. “Some owe me only a little—like one guy who owes me eleven hundred bucks. He really has no money now, but he wants to pay me back. He’s even willing to work for me. What do you think I should do to get my money back?”

This is the kind of debtor finance companies hate most—willing to do anything, but broke. It’s a headache. Some even offer to work for the finance company for just food, no salary.

No one knows how to solve this easily—not even Mr. Fox.

He believed Lynch was smart and would find a way to help because helping him meant helping Lynch—their interests aligned.

Lynch furrowed his brow slightly. Dyson Asset Management was still bringing him steady profits; he didn’t intend to end business with Mr. Fox.

After a moment’s thought, he had a solution.

“For those with property, keep lending until you can demand the house be auctioned to repay the debt.”

“For those without property, send them abroad to work. The world is rebuilding after the war; cheap labor is in high demand.”

Seeing Mr. Fox’s stunned expression, Lynch couldn’t help but smile. “You think I’m harming them?” he asked. “No, I’m saving them!”