Chapter 97: Chapter 97: So Furious I Wanted to Kill Her
“What?” Joy Ward’s pupils suddenly widened. Whom did she offend? Where had she offended someone?
“Bang.”
The office door was flung open, and the nurse leading the way was so frightened she nearly burst into tears and hurriedly fled.
A bone-chilling coldness swept through the entire space.
Seeing who had come, Joy Ward’s face froze stiffly, “Waylon? You… why are you here?”
As soon as she finished speaking, the expressionless man strode up to her. His eyes, sharp as swords, pierced her, making Joy’s entire body go cold.
...
A sense of foreboding arose, and she forced a smile, hiding her guilt with a flicker of hope.
With a “bang,” the man coldly threw a phone onto the desk.
He spat out a few words without a trace of emotion, “You have one minute to explain.”
Seeing the video on the phone, Joy Ward trembled, “Waylon… this… this isn’t real, someone set me up, deliberately fabricated this video.
Really, Waylon, believe me, we grew up together, you know me. I couldn’t do such a thing; this video is fake.
And the housemaids all said they saw Hope Williams fall by herself, Waylon, really, believe me.
It was Hope Williams, it must have been Hope setting me up, she set me up…”
Joy Ward desperately explained, as innocent and aggrieved as ever, as if the whole world were wronging her.
“Ha…” Suddenly, her neck was gripped tightly by someone, her eyes filled with terror, her voice trembling as she frantically defended herself, “Waylon, really, believe me.”
The man’s face in front was sinister, his eyes harboring a murderous intent, akin to Lord Blake.
“You still dare to argue.”
Alarmed, Joy felt the grip on her neck tighten, nearly suffocating her. She quickly reached out to grasp Waylon Lewis’ wrist, “Wa… Waylon, I really didn’t, I know nothing, I’m truly being wronged. Will you let me down so we can talk properly?”
“Joy Ward, how long do you intend to act?”
Joy Ward’s face turned pale, yet she insisted on defending herself, “Waylon… I really didn’t, really didn’t.”
Waylon Lewis closed his eyes heavily, his gaze icy cold.
Joy Ward had never seen this side of him before, making her soul tremble in fear.
No matter how sorrowfully she cried, the man in front of her, his expression sinister, seemed hell-bent on strangling her, indifferent to her plight.
The force on her neck showed no signs of abating.
Joy Ward struggled with all her might to barely breathe.
She knew she couldn’t admit anything now; admitting it would be her end. As long as she insisted the video was synthesized, that it was fake, there might still be a chance. Yes, she mustn’t admit it.
The only solace was that the video had no sound. As long as they couldn’t hear the conversation with Hope, there was a chance.
But now, she was truly terrified that this man seemed intent on killing her.
Thomas Hughes watched in horror as Joy Ward’s face under Waylon Lewis’ grip turned from ashen to bluish-purple, her breathing increasingly labored. He feared his boss might really kill her, dirtying his boss’s hands, and hastily stepped forward to intervene.
“Boss, calm down, strangling her only dirties your hands.”
Waylon Lewis showed no intention of releasing his grip.
Thinking of this woman pushing Hope Williams down the stairs and daring to claim in front of him that Hope had wronged her, while he had wrongly blamed Hope because of this woman, his anger raged, wanting to crush her bones and scatter them.
How could she have the audacity to claim Hope wronged her?
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Damn it.
Joy Ward’s eyes rolled, never having felt death so close. She was convinced this man truly intended to kill her.
“Boss, she harmed Madam. She should beg for forgiveness in front of Madam. Killing her now would be too lenient.” Thomas Hughes, though equally fearful of Waylon Lewis, reluctantly urged him to stop.
Waylon clenched his molars, slightly easing his grip, finally letting the barely-breathing Joy Ward down.
Once released, Joy Ward collapsed weakly on the ground, clutching her throat and gasping for air, her face a mess of tears and sweat, looking utterly disheveled.
Waylon slowly regained his composure, cast a cold glance at her sprawled on the floor, and coldly ordered, “Take her away,” as he left.
Thomas Hughes quickly dragged Joy Ward to follow.
Waylon, with a stern face, took out his phone, ready to call Hope Williams, but Alitzel Williams’ call came through first.
Waylon swiped to answer.
“Waylon, Grandpa has woken up.”
Waylon’s sinister gaze paused, “I’ll be right back.”
Meanwhile, Hope had just come out of the operating room when Wyatt Lewis called her, informing her that Grandpa Lewis had woken up. Hope immediately took leave to head to the Lewis Family.
When Hope arrived at the Lewis Family, everyone was there except for Waylon. All had smiles as they gathered around Grandpa Lewis.
“Old Master Lewis is recovering well. His heart rate is now stable.” With Elder Murphy’s words, the collective sigh of relief over the past months was finally let out.
“That’s great.”
“Alright, stop crowding around me, I feel much better.” The low, authoritative voice carried a hint of a smile, sounding much stronger.
Hope trembled, tears welling up instantly — it was Grandpa Lewis’s voice.
Hope felt an unexplainable nervousness, even though she herself had treated Grandpa Lewis. She expected him to wake in these days, but hearing his long-lost voice still felt unreal.