“My Grandpa Walter is dead?”
Gregory froze for a second, his expression darkening with a twisted rage. He glared at the strangers in front of him, then lunged forward. “How dare you kill my Grandpa Walter?!”
“Hey! What are you doing?!”
“Stop right there!”
Derek and his bodyguards reacted instantly. Before Gregory could reach Jamison and Ivy, the guards had already pinned him, one on each side.
“What now? You planning to kill me too?” Gregory panted, wild–eyed and ready to fight anyone in his way.
Jamison’s face was stone cold as he stared Gregory down. “Are you from Silverfen Village as well?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Two years ago, my wife was brought here for treatment after she was injured. You tried to assault her–did that happen or not?” Jamison’s voice grew even colder.
Earlier that day, he’d considered having Derek quietly look into this man’s background and teach him a lesson. He hadn’t expected to run into the bastard so soon. Since fate threw them together, he’d handle it himself.
Gregory managed to break free from the guards, straightened his shirt, and looked at Jamison and Ivy with surprise. “You’re Daisy’s husband? I heard she wasn’t married when she came here…”
“So you were in touch with those traffickers?”
“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about. But your woman’s used goods now. You still want her?”
Ivy’s eyes blazed with fury,/her entire body trembling with rage. But before she could speak, Jamison took her hand, his grip warm and steady, and looked back at Gregory. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“So what if I did? Of course I wanted her–half the men in the village did! Silly was
ky to buy such a pretty woman, too bad he didn’t know how to enjoy her!” Gregory, not realizing there were undercover cops present, sneered with disgusting
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Chapter 82
bravado. He leered at Ivy. “Daisy… Since you came back on your own, you’re not leaving this time. Silly didn’t appreciate you, but someone will! Your husband looks cold as ice–I bet he doesn’t treat you right. Stay here–ah!!”
Jamison’s jaw clenched so tight his teeth almost cracked.
Before Gregory could finish, Jamison shot his bodyguard a cold look. The guard understood immediately, stepped forward, and in one swift motion twisted Gregory’s arm behind his back, dislocating his shoulder and slamming him down onto the table.
“Aaaaah–my arm! My arm’s broken! Who the hell are you people? Do you even know whose territory this is? You want to walk out of here alive?!”
Gregory’s agonized screams and curses shocked everyone. Even the villagers were
stunned into silence.
The medical staff nearby hesitated, wanting to help their colleague, but one glance at Jamison’s commanding presence–and the powerful, intimidating bodyguards at his side–reminded them these were not people to cross. No one dared make a
move.
Only a handful of villagers, ignorant and worked up, began to shout, “What are you doing? Wasn’t killing Grandpa Walter enough? Now you want to kill Gregory too?”
“Is there no justice left in the world? They’re beating people right in front of the police, and the police say nothing! They must all be in on it!”
Hearing these wild accusations, the plainclothes officers tending their wounds slammed the table in outrage and stood up.
“That’s nonsense! Everything that happened tonight is recorded on our bodycams. Don’t think you can twist the facts! Dr. Ludwig tried to save your precious Grandpa Walter more than once–it was you who stopped him and even attacked Dr. Ludwig! Now you try to slander him? Making false accusations is a crime, and you’ll be held responsible!”
Gregory, still writhing in pain and seeing only unfamiliar faces, turned his head with a trembling voice. “You–you’re not really…cops, are you? You must be fakes!”
One of the villagers said, “Gregory, they really are police officers.”
“No way…
I’ve never seen them–ah!” His protest was cut short as the guard tightened his grip, drawing another howl of pain.
