As someone once said, "All the ways to make money are written in a small notebook."
Robert strongly agreed.
In just one night, he had made 6 million USD—even after giving Wade his cut!
It was an amount he never imagined he'd see so easily.
After receiving the final 3 million payment from Kingpin, Robert immediately contacted Weasel and placed a massive order for firearms and ammunition.
When Weasel saw the absurdly long list, he was nearly speechless. Only after Robert repeatedly assured him that he wasn't planning to attack the White House did Weasel reluctantly accept the order.
Due to the sheer quantity, Weasel couldn't deliver everything at once. The first batch would arrive in a few days; the rest might take weeks.
But during the process, Robert realized a serious problem—
He didn't have enough space to store all of it.
Sure, his apartment still had a little room, but cramming it full of guns and ammo?
That wasn't how he wanted to live. It would be inconvenient, dangerous, and frankly, uncomfortable.
So, Robert decided it was time to relocate.
Originally, he had chosen Weasel's safehouse because it was cheap and helped him lay low from Francis. But now both of those concerns were gone—and more importantly, he had money to burn. There was no emotional attachment to the place. Time to upgrade.
Four days after receiving the final payment, Robert headed to Queens—right next to Brooklyn—following up on a listing he found online.
When he arrived, he saw a spacious, low-rise house much larger than Weasel's cramped apartment. A "For Sale" sign stood in the front yard.
He called the number and explained he was there to view the property. The seller readily agreed and arrived shortly afterward.
As expected, the homeowner was a bald, middle-aged man.
"Sir, I promise this house won't disappoint," the man said warmly. "Please, come in."
He guided Robert through the house, highlighting its features along the way.
Robert had to admit—the place was impressive. The interior was stylishly renovated, and most of the furniture looked brand new.
According to the seller, the house had been refurbished for him and his wife. But after discovering she was cheating on him, he divorced her and put the house on the market out of spite.
Judging by the grin on his face, Robert guessed the divorce had saved him a ton in alimony—and now he was enjoying the freedom.
Classic American story.
After touring the place, Robert was pleased—especially with the spacious basement warehouse and the attached garage. The basement would be perfect for storing weapons and ammo, and the garage could be converted into a workshop for tinkering and upgrades.
"I like the house," Robert said, "but the price is a bit steep."
"$875,000 is already below market," the man replied. "No one's lived here since the renovation. You can see for yourself—everything's untouched."
"You're right," Robert said. "But I still don't have that kind of money. How about you cut me a better deal?"
The bald man kept smiling. "Sorry, I've already lost enough. How about I throw in all the furniture? You won't need to buy a thing."
Robert was unmoved. "If you're willing to lower the price, I might consider paying in full."
"If you pay upfront, I'll knock it down to $870,000."
"Too high. Let's make it an even $800,000."
"..."
The man's smile stiffened. That was a $70,000 drop—what was this, a robbery?
After some back-and-forth negotiation, they finally struck a deal:
$850,000 paid in full, and in return, the bald man would include all the furniture and cover the transaction tax for both sides. The deal was done.
But Robert didn't sign right away. Being cautious, he brought in a professional lawyer to review the paperwork.
Naturally, that meant Matt and Foggy.
Not long after, Foggy showed up with a smile.
"Mr. Robert, nice to see you again! Glad to be of service."
Not seeing Matt, Robert asked curiously, "Where's Lawyer M?"
"Lawyer M?" Foggy looked confused for a moment, then chuckled. "Oh—you mean Matt. He hasn't been feeling well lately. Said he's lost his appetite and is resting at home. But don't worry, I'm more than qualified to handle this."
Robert raised an eyebrow. Still not recovered?
He felt a bit disappointed. He'd hoped to see how badly Matt was still suffering from their last encounter.
"Alright, I'll leave everything to you," Robert said with a nod.
"Of course."
Foggy jumped into lawyer mode, reviewing the terms and explaining them clearly—breaking down every clause and legal implication. Robert appreciated the professionalism. A good lawyer really made life easier.
After verifying the details and confirming everything was solid, Robert signed the contract.
Finally—he owned a real home.
To show his appreciation, he treated Foggy to a nearby Chinese restaurant. Though the food wasn't exactly authentic to Robert's tastes, Foggy seemed to enjoy it—unsurprising, since most Chinese restaurants in the area adjusted their flavors for local diners.
Before they left, Robert packed a portion of stinky tofu to go.
"This is Matt's favorite Chinese dish," Robert said with a straight face. "Take it back for him. He'll love it."
"Uh… since when?" Foggy asked, eyeing the container suspiciously. If he hadn't seen it come straight from the kitchen, he might've assumed it was something fished out of a sewer.
"He told me in secret," Robert said cheerfully. "I guarantee it'll bring back his appetite."
"Well… thanks. I guess."
"You're welcome."
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