Harvey scoffed. "As if our prestigious family would need to borrow any money. The very idea is laughable." "Actually, Harvey, Nelson did mention you owed the bank money," Christina said. "I was planning to discuss that with you." "Christie, do you really think that's possible?" Harvey smiled. Irene jumped in and defended Harvey. "That idiot Nelson deserved to get fired for spreading such lies. My future son-in-law could easily pull out 150 million or even 1.5 billion if he wanted to." Harvey waved dismissively, exuding poise and confidence. "Mrs. Stevens, you must be joking. A few hundred million, or even billions—that's a big deal. But to owe just a few million? Please, I wouldn't even bother with something so small."Andrew stood up, clearly done with the conversation. Christina frowned and asked, "Andrew, are you leaving already?" He replied flatly, "If I stay any longer, I'm afraid my intelligence will take a hit." Christina's face darkened. "Fine, Mr. Lloyd. Don't l
Harvey felt better knowing Andrew was in bigger trouble than him. He smirked and muttered, "Tony's even more ruthless than Dylan. Andrew won't have a single bone left intact when Tony is done with him." Just outside the restaurant, three SUVs suddenly surrounded Andrew. He remained calm as he watched several men step out of the vehicles. "Remember me?" Juan sneered through his barely healed bruises. "Today will be your last." "Oh, I remember," Andrew replied with a smirk. "How could I forget? Last time, I beat you up so badly that you were almost unrecognizable." The memory of Andrew's slaps at the racetrack still haunted Juan. "You won't be laughing soon. Before we kill you, I'm going to make sure you know exactly how it feels to have your face destroyed." Standing nearby with a cold glare, Rocco chimed in, "Don't play any tricks. Cooperate, and I might make it quick. If not…" His voice trailed off menacingly, leaving no room for doubt. Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Let me g
Rocco muttered as he looked at the gun, "With this baby, everyone will bow down—no matter who they are." He failed to notice the icy calm in Andrew's gaze, utterly unfazed by the weapon. After Juan and his men took Andrew away, one of the South City gang members emerged trembling from his hiding spot. He quickly dialed his phone and reported, "Mr. Garner, we've got trouble—Mr. Rocco from East Side just took Lloyd" Dylan's voice shook with anger as he shouted, "W-What? You idiots! Weren't you supposed to watch Mr. Lloyd and report anything suspicious immediately?" The lackey stammered, "M-Mr. Garner, this wasn't our fault. The East Side crew came out of nowhere, and Rocco had a gun. Mr. Lloyd had no chance to fight back." "Those bastards brought weapons?" Dylan cursed. "That old fox Tony's playing for keeps." "What do we tell Mr. Yates if something happens to Mr. Lloyd?" the lackey asked anxiously. Dylan growled, "Don't panic! I'll report this to Mr. Yates immediately.
"Tony, you're dead if you touch Mr. Lloyd," Cedric growled as he slammed his fist on the table at the Aicker residence, rising to his feet with a terrifying expression. "Grandpa, what's wrong? Why are you so angry?" Francesca asked in surprise. "I just got the news that the East Side gang just kidnapped Mr. Lloyd," Cedric said, gritting his teeth. Francesca instantly panicked. "How could this happen? Grandpa, we need to go save him!" Cedric glanced at her and waved his hand dismissively. "You stay home and rest. Let me handle this." Francesca insisted, "No, I need to see for myself that he's okay." Cedric conceded. "Fine. Simon, Fran and I are heading to the East Side. Watch the house." Simon, Cedric's senior apprentice, grumbled, "Mr. Aicker, why should we care if Andrew lives or dies? Tony's not someone we should mess with! He runs the East Side underground. We shouldn't make an enemy of him." "You fool!" Cedric snapped. "Lauren and Dylan are already charging into th
Rocco laughed along, convinced Andrew had lost his mind. "Everyone who falls into East Side's hands ends up scared witless. It's understandable!" The lackeys guarding the warehouse entrance relaxed, exchanging amused looks. They began calling out suggestions for torture, each more horrific than the last. "Mr. Madden, how do you want to handle him? Chop off a few fingers first, or maybe castrate him right away?" "Look at his flawless skin. Maybe we could sell him to a… certain kind of club," another thug suggested with a twisted grin. "Remember how many times he slapped you back at the track? I think you should return the favor, Mr. Madden—then work him over until he begs for death." Juan gloated. "Did you hear that? You're in for a world of pain. You sure you don't want to beg for mercy now?" Andrew replied impatiently, "I came here to teach Tony a lesson, not to watch a bunch of clowns put on a show. If you don't make your move soon, I'll make mine." Juan roared with lau
Rocco trembled as cold sweat ran down his body, realizing they had severely underestimated their opponent. The other East Side thugs stood frozen, afraid that any sudden move might make Andrew hurt Juan. "Let Mr. Madden go, and I'll put down my gun. Deal?" Rocco slowly lowered his weapon, though a murderous glint flickered in his eyes. Andrew smiled. "That's better." However, he quickly delivered another slap to Juan's face. "Didn't he want me to try hitting him? Well, how about one, two, three…" He asked mockingly, "How was that? Satisfied now?" The pain was unbearable, and Juan sobbed, "Yes, yes! Please stop! No more! I'll die if you don't stop!" "What more do you want?" Rocco shouted. "I've surrendered. But if anything happens to Mr. Madden, you're dead!" Andrew released Juan with a warning. "Get lost, but remember our deal—you leave me alone after this." As Juan stumbled toward him, Rocco rolled forward and snatched up his gun. "Let you go? After what you did to Mr.
Juan's heart pounded as he swallowed hard. There was nothing funny about this situation at all. Unfortunately, Tony had already hung up, pleased with himself. "Please don't kill me! I'll do anything. Just let me live!" Juan begged on his knees as Andrew approached with an increasingly cold smile. … Meanwhile, at East Side, Tony sat relaxed in his leather armchair with a casual smile. He declared. "I'm not releasing him. The kid beat up Juan, my only son. Anyone who touches him is basically spitting in my face, and that means death." Lauren, Cedric, and Dylan sat across from him, their faces grim. "Mr. Madden Senior, this whole mess started because Juan provoked Andrew first," Lauren argued angrily. "Isn't it excessive to kill someone just because of that? You can't just abuse your position as East Side's crime lord to take lives as you please." "Ms. Rhodes, I don't appreciate that tone," Tony drawled, sipping his tea. "Even if Juan started it, so what? That kid is just a n
Lauren, Cedric, and Dylan watched in shock as a figure walked calmly into the room. The man ignored the tension in the air and strode straight toward Tony. "You must be Tony Madden, the so-called king of East Side," Andrew said, his voice steady. "I beat up Juan and killed your man. Well, I'm here. What are you going to do about it?" Lauren, Cedric, and Dylan were stunned by the sheer audacity of those words. He single-handedly stormed East Side, killed one of Tony's top men, and beat Juan to a pulp. Not only that, but he was even challenging Tony himself. Even Dylan, a man who had seen his fair share of violence and chaos, felt a cold sweat forming as he watched Andrew's unshaken figure. He always knew Andrew was formidable, but this was a whole other level of audacity. Tony's face turned red with rage, veins bulging in his forehead as he growled, "I'm going to kill you!" Over a hundred East Side members flooded the room, their faces twisted with menace. Several of them gave
Natasha's bedroom was in complete disarray. She lay on the floor, drenched in sweat with disheveled hair and blood at the corner of her mouth, her face ghostly pale. Her half-open eyes glared at Andrew with intense hatred, while he sat casually on the couch, sipping his tea as if nothing had happened. Unlike Natasha's battered state, not a single thread on Andrew's clothing was out of place. "Wait, so you two weren't… you were actually fighting?" the bearded enforcer asked in disbelief. Another West End thug added in shock, "How is it possible that Madam is injured?" To them, Natasha had always been an invincible fighter, yet now she lay helpless on the floor, thoroughly defeated by Andrew. Conan shot an angry glare at the bearded enforcer and his companion. "Weren't you just saying how much fun she was having? Stop standing there like idiots and help her up!" The two men rushed forward to assist Natasha, but she impatiently pushed them away. "Get out! All of you get out!
Andrew's fingers struck with precision, targeting pressure points that sent waves of intense pain through Natasha's body. "Darling, no! Please, stop! I was wrong—I'm sorry! I can't take it anymore. It hurts so much!" "Ahhh! Stop it, please stop! Don't do this anymore!" Natasha cried out, her voice switching between desperate wails and hysterical laughter as the unbearable pain pushed her to the brink. The excruciating pain caused Natasha to writhe on the floor. She crashed into the couch and coffee table, making loud thudding noises that echoed through the room. … In the hallway outside, several heads peeked around the corner, intently watching Natasha's door. Conan led the group, his weathered face twisted with concern as he whispered, "Something doesn't sound right about this." One of the West End enforcers chuckled. "Come on, can't you tell? Madam is just having a good time!" Another man with a scruffy beard joined in with a knowing chuckle. "Exactly! Madam Vostoko
Andrew remained seated on the couch, his expression unchanged, as he raised his leg to intercept Natasha's attack. "You won't even stand up? Fine! If you're going to disrespect me like this, I'll have to teach you a lesson!" Natasha's chest heaved with anger. Her combat abilities surpassed Dylan's, and she was just a hair's breadth away from matching Atlas. Yet, this arrogant young man would not even bother to get up from his seat to face her attack, which felt like a direct insult to her pride. She transformed her claw-like strikes into palm strikes, alternating blows aimed at Andrew's chest. Without even looking, the latter countered with two palm strikes of his own, and their hands collided with two dull thuds. Natasha felt an overwhelming force transmitted through Andrew's hands, causing her to stumble backward. Meanwhile, Andrew remained as steady as a mountain on the couch, even taking a moment to pick up his teacup for a casual sip. He commented, "I'm surprised that a
With frustration written across her face, Natasha gritted her teeth. She had decided it was better not to show off her strategies in front of Andrew anymore, wanting to avoid further embarrassment. Andrew ignored her visible discomfort and said calmly, "I want you to understand that anything gained through deception and betrayal will eventually become too hot to handle and turn to dust. That's the lesson history has taught us time and time again." Natasha scoffed. "Fine, I can't argue with you. But you have to admit that two-thirds or more of Jayrodale's underworld is now under my control. Either you and Dylan submit to my authority, or you'll face death!" Andrew shook his head and replied, "You're seeing things through rose-colored glasses. While Dylan might not be able to handle you, I can take you down with a single move. That's another lesson I want to teach you today—that in the face of absolute power, no amount of schemes or clever tricks will work." Natasha paused, then
After her initial shock, Natasha's face flushed with embarrassment and anger, refusing to back down as she questioned him. "Alright, you call yourself a master physician. Then let me ask you this—why did I still get injured in my fight with Atlas after taking the Blood Surge Pill? And now you're accusing me of faking it?" Andrew's lips curled into a mocking smile as he replied, "Is that so hard to figure out? The moment you got back, you took a high-quality healing pill. Judging by your complexion, it must've been a top-tier Vitality Pill. These pills can quickly replenish energy and restore blood, bringing you back from weakness in no time." "Well, am I wrong?" Andrew's tone was dripping with sarcasm as he stared at Natasha. Natasha fell silent for a long moment before clapping her hands, a rosy blush spreading across her face—there was not a hint of weakness left in her demeanor. "No wonder Dylan swears unwavering loyalty to you. Even I have to admit defeat before you, darlin
"At this point, West End can't even send out a proper representative," Andrew stated emotionlessly. "Since you're treating me like I don't exist, I'll kill you first, then have a chat with Natasha." "Mr. Lloyd, please don't go too far!" a voice suddenly thundered from behind. "Conan, done watching the show from your hiding spot?" Andrew smirked as he released his grip and kicked the tattooed giant toward Conan. Conan's face twitched. He knew the tattooed giant was one of Natasha's most fearless fighters, young and skilled in hand-to-hand combat, yet Andrew had broken him so effortlessly. "Please follow me, Mr. Lloyd. Madam Vostokoff will see you now," Conan said coldly. Andrew sneered. "Oh, now she's willing to meet after this show of force?" "Mr. Lloyd, West End has already absorbed Atlas's territory," Conan stated angrily. "If you were smart, you wouldn't have come here." "So, if I hadn't shown up, Natasha would just take everything herself?" Andrew's face remained expr
Andrew's patience had run out as he spoke in a cold tone. "One last time—tell Natasha to come out and talk now." The tattooed giant mocked, "Or what? What can you do? Andrew, you might have some history with West End, but if you think that gives you the right to make demands, you're in the wrong place." As he moved to push Andrew away again, the other guards snickered. With Atlas' fall, Natasha had become Jayrodale's most powerful underground leader, and they could not believe this man's audacity in challenging West End. Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the air—the sound of a wrist being broken. The tattooed giant let out an agonizing scream. "My hand! You broke my hand! Get him! Attack!" The fifty-over guards stood shocked for a moment before charging forward with angry shouts. Andrew's face turned cold as his leg swept out. Screams filled the air as the first wave of guards went flying, their faces meeting Andrew's foot. The tattooed giant, his wrist still in Andrew
Aspen had invested ten million dollars in Atlas's operation, and if it were all gone, there would be serious consequences. They immediately got into the car with Irene and Leroy, heading toward Jayrodale's Northern District. … Meanwhile, Andrew's G-Wagon drifted to a smooth stop in front of the West End headquarters. Unlike usual, the building was surrounded by guards in black suits, dark ties, and sunglasses, creating an intimidating atmosphere. One of Natasha's top enforcers blocked Andrew's path. "Sorry, Mr. Lloyd, but you can't enter right now!" "I'm here to see Madam Vostokoff. Is there a problem?" Andrew asked with a smile as he sized up the man. The enforcer was a muscular giant with a crew cut and tattoos covering his neck, chest, and arms. His bulging muscles and fists the size of melons marked him as someone not to be messed with. "Mr. Lloyd, please understand that Madam Vostokoff isn't available right now," the man chuckled, pushing Andrew back. "You're an honore
Leroy's soup dripped onto the table as he anxiously asked, "Aspen, now that Atlas is dead, what about our money?" "Shut up!" Christina kicked him under the table. "How can you think about money at a time like this?" With a grave expression, Christina turned to Aspen. "We need to act fast. Contact someone in the Northern District and get your investment back immediately." Aspen snapped out of her daze and quickly dialed Atlas' office number. A raspy voice answered, "Who are you looking for?" "This is Aspen from the Bridgefields' Stevens family. I need to speak with Mr. Atlas Giordano," she said urgently. "Are you stupid? Mr. Giordano is as dead as he can be. If you want to find him, try looking in hell," the voice sneered. Aspen snapped, "Watch your tone! Who do you think you are to speak to me like that?" "I'll speak however I want, lady. Like I said, Mr. Giordano's dead, and he's finished," the voice replied coldly. Aspen gritted her teeth. "Atlas may be dead, but the