My years as a menswear boss

"How is Tanglar doing recently?" Jiqiu asked the British bodyguard standing beside him.

"He is too busy to take care of himself. As far as I know, the baroness is ready to find another home. Mr. Tanglar originally received the 300 million francs that Mr. Benedetto gave, but Miss Eugenie ran away from home, and Mr. Benedetto let Mrs. Deto asks for the dowry money back," Forrester replied.

"Then let us see the final fate of this cunning banker. By the way, you said he secretly booked a boat ticket to Italy?" Ji Qiu asked, rubbing his chin.

"Yes, the batch at [-]:[-] p.m. on Wednesday," Forrester said.

"He wants to take the money and run away." Jiqiu said with certainty, "But Dantès should have thought of this too, and has already made preparations."

At No. 28, Rue Fontaine, Auteuil Village, Benedetto is enjoying the benefits of being the son of a prince, half leaning on the soft velvet quilt, gulping down the fine wine, and There are beautiful girls who serve him.

He thought about finding two more beautiful women to have sex with him tonight, and at this moment Benedetto was completely immersed in the beautiful dream he wove in his mind.

In the next second, several ferocious soldiers rushed in, and the two beautiful women screamed in fright. They hurriedly hid in the corner of the room like frightened birds.

The chief police officer wearing the sash raised his hand to let the soldiers guard all the exits in the house. He stared at the disheveled man on the bed like an eagle, "You are Andre Cavalcanti."

Before Benedetto could answer, a judge came in behind holding a Bible. He looked at the frightened man indifferently, "You have been accused of murdering your adoptive mother, burglary and other crimes. You have the right to appear in court. Justify yourself—"

"No, I didn't!" Benedetto hugged his head, and the police officer frowned in disgust. He waved and let the soldiers tie him up and take him away.

The fraud of Viscount Andre Cavalcanti's identity spread throughout the upper class of Paris within a day. The nobles did not wait for the last melon to be understood, and another melon was handed to their mouths.

"I knew it. The first time I saw him, I felt that his face was extremely ferocious. Ha, now it is exactly as I expected."

A certain viscount said to his wife that he completely ignored the time when he once praised Viscount Cavalcanti's noble behavior.

Benedetto was mortgaged in prison and interrogated by the gendarmerie. The head of the gendarmerie had dealt with such criminals for a long time, and he knew how to break the psychological defense of such people.

"Benedetto, sentenced to five years of hard labor in [-] for counterfeiting/money, escaped from prison in [-], is now reported for theft, and is also accused of murdering a lady."

The chief of the gendarmerie spoke in a calm voice, and he counted the crimes committed by Benedetto one by one, "Do you have anything to say?"

"I didn't kill anyone!" Benedetto shouted loudly, and was soon hit by a soldier behind him with a rifle to restore his sanity.

"It's that woman, it's her who didn't run out! All this has nothing to do with me!"

"I just need money so much, but she is indifferent to my misery. I just want to give me a little money to get me through that difficult time, but it's a pity that woman won't give it!"

"So you brutally forced a poor woman in the process of asking for money, right?"

The head of the gendarmerie sneered. He took out an envelope and took out the letter inside. "These are the neighbor's testimony and fingerprints."

Benedetto looked at the letters with different handwriting in front of him, and was about to touch them when he was pulled away by the officer, "Yes... yes."

"Your trial will be next Wednesday. Good luck, Mr. Benedetto." The head of the gendarmerie got up and left after speaking. He knew that he didn't need to waste too much time with this kind of scum. alright.

Benedetto watched as the door in front of him was closed heavily, and the whole room turned back to darkness. There was only a two-square-meter skylight at a height of three meters, revealing a faint light.

"It's all over," he yelled in despair, tearing his hair.

"Who is the judge in Benedetto's trial? Jiqiu added three spoonfuls of honey to her milk on the dining table. She looked at Dantès, and the guardian was flipping through the newspaper in his hand.

"Of course it's the 'impartial' Judge Villefort." Dantès' tone was flat, but there was a tinge of yin and yang in what he said.

"Wow, was the trial open?" Jiqiu stopped stirring the milk and asked with bright eyes.

"Of course, would you like to see it?"

"Want to see! Don't you want to go?" Jiqiu tilted his head.

"I think." Dantès looked at his cub gently, "I want to witness this moment with you."

Inside the Villefort mansion, the judge looked at the work in his hands. His expression was numb at this time. Valentine's death brought him a heavy blow. He never thought that he would have such a sad day. He could only use Work paralyzes yourself.

"Master, there is a Baron named d'Epinay outside the door who wants to see you." The butler said as he opened the door after Villefort responded.

"I'm not in the mood to see the guest right now, so let him go back." Villefort said without raising his head.

After a while, the butler appeared at the door again, "Master, that gentleman said that he knew the truth about Miss' death."

"What?!" Villefort stood up, walked back and forth in his room a few times, he calmed down his heartbeat, "Oh, you asked him to wait for me in the living room."

Villefort came to the living room and saw the young man, "I hope what you said is true and not to tease me, Baron."

"Of course, I have definite evidence to prove that Miss Villefort was murdered, and the murderer was Madame Villefort!" Franz said.

"Not only that, Mr. Saint-Meran and Mrs. Saint-Meran were also poisoned by Madame de Villefort."

Villefort's chest began to heave violently, and he wiped his face, "I am a judge, and it is against the law to frame someone."

Franz threw a stack of investigation reports in his hand in front of Villefort, "I never believed that Miss Villefort would commit suicide, so I have been unremittingly investigating the truth of this matter!"

"You are an impartial judge, you won't cover up the murderer."

"Oh, of course not." Villefort picked up the stack of investigation reports tremblingly. It's not that he was completely unaware of the crimes committed by his wife, but he was just paralyzing himself.

"I am waiting for your good news. I still have a second copy of these reports." Franz said calmly, revealing that if Villefort did not take the initiative to report his wife, then he would Report on Madame de Villefort and avenge poor Miss Villefort.

"Okay, I'll take care of it." Villefort slumped on the sofa as if his bones had been ripped out, completely unable to see his usual aloof appearance.

The judge did not recover from the shock until Franz left his home.

"Master, are you alright?" the butler asked worriedly.

"Please pour me a glass of brandy, Hank." Villefort unbuttoned his shirt, took the goblet in the butler's hand and drank it in one gulp, his pale face regained some rosiness.

After a while, the doorbell rang again, and he looked at Hank, beckoning him to look at whoever was coming.

Hankla opened the door, and there was a woman in a black veil standing outside, he asked suspiciously, "Who are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for Judge Villefort," said the Baroness Danglars, lifting her veil.

Villefort looked at the visitor with a horrified expression, "Why are you here?!"

He breathed a sigh of relief after thinking of his wife going out to attend a party, "What do you have to say quickly."

"I saw a familiar person, he is suffering now, I would like to ask you to help." The baroness said.

Villefort thought of the mess that had just happened in his home, and he interrupted her impatiently, "If you want to help one of your lovers, then I can tell you responsibly, it is impossible, the law cannot be violated .”

"He's not!" sharply denied the baroness.

"Whether he is your lover or not, I will not spare him," said Villefort grimly.

"What if that person has something to do with you?"

"Oh?" Villefort picked up a bottle of brandy and drank it into his mouth. He looked out the window, ignoring the pleading woman.

With tears in her eyes, the Baroness said in self-abandonment, "Do you remember the baby you buried that night?"

Villefort's rosy face immediately turned pale. He looked around, and when he saw that there was no one in the room, he walked up to the baroness, "Are you threatening me?!"

"I don't think so," said the baroness. "I just want to tell you that the child is alive and brought up."

"Are you serious?" Villefort shook his hand, and the wine bottle in his hand fell to the ground and shattered.

"His pseudonym is Andrea Cavalcanti, his real name is Benedetto. He was charged with murder and robbery yesterday and was imprisoned. He will have a trial next Wednesday. You are the judge of that trial." The baroness trembled. Said.

"You're lying, I've confirmed that the baby is not breathing, it was born without breathing!"

Villefort was unsteady, and suddenly fell on the piano in the living room, and the keys made a painful hoarse sound.

"I don't need to lie about it, Your Honor." The baroness said softly, and she reached out to hold Villefort. "Now only you can save him and our son."

Villefort felt that there was darkness in front of his eyes, and he desperately pinched his thigh, praying that this was a nightmare and that he would wake up quickly.

Until the sharp nails pierced the skin of her thigh, the scene in front of her eyes remained unchanged, and the baroness was still pleading for Benedetto one sentence after another.