Smash!
"You idiots! Is this how you protect my son?"
Inside a luxurious villa, Calbhach Watson, the Watson Family patriarch, the bald man from the party, furiously threw a vase onto the floor, shattering it into pieces. His eyes, blazing with anger, glared at the dozen or so bodyguards standing before him.
"I pay each of you hundreds of thousands every year, and you stand here telling me the enemy was strong?"
The bodyguards remained silent, knowing full well that keeping quiet might only earn them a scolding or, at worst, a beating. But if they dared speak up, they might end up as shark food by nightfall.
Calbhach's anger burned hotter as he glanced at his son, still unconscious on the floor, reeking of urine. "Who in all of Dewsbury would dare lay a hand on a member of the Watson Family?" He barked, "Who attacked my son?"
One of the bodyguards stepped forward and said, "The attacker was incredibly arrogant, sir. He even made sure we came back to tell you this: ‘The Watson patriarch is nothing. His son is a useless drunk, and I'll beat him up every time I see him.' And then… he said… he said…"
Seeing the man hesitate, Calbhach thundered again. "What else did he say?"
"He also said that your son isn't… isn't really yours, but rather your wife's child with another man…"
The moment the words left his mouth, all the bodyguards dropped to their knees in unison, cold sweat breaking out on their backs. They silently cursed the one who spoke up. It was one thing to embellish and insult, but to reveal such a deep, private matter—what was he thinking?
Calbhach's face turned a sickly mix of red and green, his chest heaving with barely contained fury. Without a word, he reached behind the bookshelf, pulled out a handgun, and spoke in a chilling tone, "What's the name of that b*stard, and where can I find him?"
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