At Fierte Estate, as the situation in Paris grew increasingly tense, the atmosphere within the estate also tightened.
In the garden, Maxim Sidorov said solemnly, "Tom, take your younger brothers and sisters to London for a holiday. Leave tomorrow. I've already arranged the ship."
He was ruthless toward outsiders, but Maxim Sidorov was still a loving father to his own children. Seeing that unrest was about to break out in France, he had already arranged an escape route for them.
The young man asked in confusion, "What about you? Aren't you coming with us?"
There had never been any shortage of clever people in this world. The strange atmosphere in Paris already carried the feeling of wind filling the tower before the mountain rain arrived. Anyone with a bit of sense was looking for a way out.
Those with money sought connections to flee abroad, while middle-class people with modest means prepared to flee to the countryside. Apart from the few who had no choice but to stay, the rest were either penniless or muddleheaded fools.
Without question, Maxim Sidorov was one of those who had no choice but to remain.
After hesitating for a moment, Maxim Sidorov said against his true feelings, "No. You go first. The bank's affairs can't do without me. Once I'm done dealing with them, your mother and I will come over."
Being the leader was no easy task. While taking the largest slice of the cake, one also had to shoulder the corresponding responsibilities.
This was a critical moment. Maxim Sidorov had to stay and hold the fort. Too many people had their eyes on him. If he threw everything aside and ran now, he likely would not even make it out of France before meeting his end.
Neither the capitalists nor the government