Chapter 889: Chapter 889: Cripple One of His Hands
The man, who was arrogant in front of Jasmine Clark, was now truly scared shitless, continuously wailing.
“Young Master Lyle, I was wrong, I was really wrong. Young Master Lyle, please don’t cripple my hands. No, please, I have elderly parents and young children, if I’m crippled, they will all starve to death…”
“Young Master Lyle, I beg you, I beg of you. No, please no. I won’t dare again, I swear, I’ll never dare again. If I ever harbor another crooked thought, Young Master Lyle, you can kill .”
The indifferent man didn’t glance at him, completely unmoved.
The fat man, seeing no reaction, felt his heart go cold. He knelt and clung to his legs, looking up with hope, “Young Master Lyle, how about this? I’ll help you deal with the Young Master. He still doesn’t know you’ve caught , he’s not cautious of . Young Master Lyle, let help you take him down. Whatever you ask to do, I’ll do it.”
The man with peach blossom eyes finally looked at him directly, his gaze calm and unflinching. He grabbed his chin with one hand and touched his thin lips, “I don’t trust you.”
...
I don’t trust you!
Five words, without a hint of personal emotion!
But to the man desperately begging for rcy, it was undoubtedly a death sentence. He went limp on the ground, his hands still not letting go, his face streaked with moisture, unable to differentiate between sweat and tears of fear as he wailed, “Young Master Lyle, I really won’t dare again. Believe , believe just this once! The very last ti! I really won’t dare, even if you give ten tis the courage, I wouldn’t dare.”
“Clamor.”
The bodyguard standing next to him imdiately understood his aning, one of them covered the man’s mouth, while the other dragged him backwards.
Another person then took out a sharp knife and walked towards the man.
The man struggled desperately, but his 9-pound fra couldn’t move under the bodyguards’ restraint, and he could only watch as the person with the knife got closer and closer…
Until he approached him, knife raised, and fell swiftly!
“Ah!” A scream akin to a pig being slaughtered rang out!
The air was thick with the sll of blood…
Lyle Westbrook glanced over and ordered casually, “Drag him out!”
“Yes, Young Master Lyle!” Two n dragged the limp, screaming man out, his wrist bleeding profusely, leaving a stark trail of blood that was shocking to see.
But everyone present acted as if they did not see his miserable state, accustod to cleaning up the aftermath.
Lyle Westbrook stood up, ready to return to the hotel.
“Young Master Lyle…”
Suddenly, he heard a faint cry of a child.
“Silence.”
His subordinates imdiately fell silent.
Once everyone was quiet, the child’s crying beca even more distinct. He frowned and scanned the people around him, “Go check.”
“Yes, Young Master Lyle.” The instructed subordinate hastily found a small door hidden behind the wardrobe in the room.
Soon enough, a little girl, wailing loudly, was brought out.
The little girl seed to be about a year old, with tiny arms and legs, wearing a pink strap dress that, despite being a bit dirty, didn’t detract from her cuteness.
Her face was red, either from crying or from so other reason, akin to a ripe apple.
“Young Master Lyle, he also had a child hidden here, probably bought,” said the subordinate.
“Have I not said that trafficking is off-limits? It seems that crippling one of his hands was letting him off easy!”
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