Though not naturally timid, Freddie found the Tanners' punishment methods unbearably brutal. The seemingly casual remark "deal" from Chermaine concealed a sadistic form of retribution beyond human endurance.
After hanging up, Kingsley stowed away his phone. Only then did he realize an eerie stillness had descended upon the Sheffield Family's living room. The silence was so profound that the faintest sound would be audible.
At this instant, a chill seemed to permeate the air, freezing everyone's expressions in shock and rendering them immobile, too fearful to move. They comprehended everything from the exchange they had just overheard, and the voice on the other end of the line was indeed the third aunt of the Tanner Family. Moreover, her affectionate tone and reference to Kingsley as an esteemed guest left everyone dumbfounded.
Earlier, these people had been deriding Kingsley disdainfully and were unaware he was a formidable "big boss." It finally dawned on them that Kingsley had tolerated the ridicule because he regarded himself so far superior to them that they were unworthy of his attention.
Gulp!
Suddenly, an audible gulp echoed through the room, and Jeremy's teeth involuntarily chattered. The clattering seemed loud in the living room's uncanny silence.
Then, Kingsley's gaze shifted to him. "Mr. Windsor, are you alright? Are you feeling chilly in the middle of summer?"
Thud!
A shudder coursed through Jeremy's body, causing him to slide down from his seat just like Freddie did earlier. "I... I never meant to compete with you..." he stammered, panic lacing his voice. "It's Mr. Mor... Freddie wants to cooperate with the Sheffields. I'm not qualified to compete with you in this cooperation. This matter has nothing to do with me!"
After hearing this, Kingsley's lip curled into a sneer, and he said, "If memory serves me right, didn't you insult my elder sister earlier?"
"I..." In an instant, a bead of cold sweat trickled down Jeremy's back. The icy tendrils of the air conditioner's breeze made his entire body shiver while his complexion turned ashen, resembling that of a man struck by a grave illness. "M-Mr. Nicholson, I didn't mean to insult President Wynn..."
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