Chapter 204 Chapter203-Giving You a Chance to Call for Help (2nd update, Cheer me with Power Stones!)
John locked eyes with Nicholas, and Nicholas returned the gaze.
Their glances intersected and understanding flashed in Nicholas's eyes.
He gestured dismissively at Scarface, "Didn't you hear Mr. Foster's request? What are you waiting for?"
Scarface quickly stepped forward, drawing from behind a club as thick as a baby's arm.
It was baffling how he managed to conceal such a hefty stick on him.
Well, one could say, people in his line of work have their ways.
Approaching Eric, Scarface motioned his men to pin Eric's right hand onto the table.
Eric's desperate struggles intensified; sheer terror rendered him almost senseless.
His only resort was to continually shout his father's name, hoping these men would consider Timothy King's influence and spare his hand.
But, alas, it was all in vain.
His hand was firmly pressed onto the table, unable to break free.
Scarface, finding the right spot, swung down the club with a forceful blow.
Leaning back into the couch, John instinctively shielded Emma's eyes within his embrace.
The other students, unable to bear the sight, looked away.
Yet the burly men in black suits craned their necks with an almost macabre interest, apparently quite enjoying the spectacle.
A dull thud, followed by the unmistakable crisp sound of bone shattering, echoed through the private booth.
Eric stared dumbfounded at his now-numb right hand.
The surge of adrenaline momentarily numbed the pain.
But soon after, as the adrenaline waned, an excruciating agony stormed his senses.
"AHHH!"
With a harrowing scream, Eric crumpled to the ground, holding his injured hand.
His body twitched uncontrollably as tears mingled with mucus streamed down his contorted face, rendering him almost inhuman.
The room was dead silent.
The students, huddled in the corners, wore expressions of sheer horror, looking at John as if he were the devil incarnate.
Eric's whimpers faded gradually, his movements stilled, though his body still trembled involuntarily.
Glancing down, Scarface remarked disdainfully, "The kid's passed out from the pain... what a weakling!"
Nicholas chuckled, addressing John, "Mr. Foster, are you satisfied with how it was handled?"
Scarface, eager to curry favor, flashed an ingratiating smile towards John.
Though he hadn't met John before, Nicholas's deference was enough to tell him that John was someone he couldn't afford to offend.
Out of professional habit, Scarface subconsciously etched John's features into his memory.
John chuckled lightly, not immediately responding.
Reading the cue, Nicholas pondered for a moment before instructing, "Grab a bottle of alcohol, and wake the kid up."
Scarface, grinning wickedly, promptly poured an entire bottle over Eric's head.
Clearly, there was something slightly off about this man.
Even though he could've ordered one of his subordinates to do it, he chose to do it himself.
Perhaps he relished the process of such actions...
The cold beer quickly roused Eric.
Groaning in pain, he opened his eyes.
After a momentary blankness, memories of the recent events rushed back.
The sharp pain emanating from his right hand immediately brought clarity.
How Eric wished it were all just a nightmare.
However, the sight of Scarface's menacing and rugged face was a brutal reminder of the reality he was in.
In sheer panic, he scrambled backward, accidentally jostling his injured hand.
The pain made him gasp, nearly causing him to faint once more.
He shot John a venomous look, his eyes burning with deep-seated resentment. "Who the hell are you?"
John, leisurely sipping his drink with his feet propped on the table - ensuring Emma nestled comfortably in his embrace - responded with a slight smile, "I'm Emma's boyfriend. Weren't you the one who called me here?"
Earlier, Emma had whispered the entire backstory to John.
Knowing the reasons made John's anger flare even more.
Pressing against the wall as if it provided some semblance of safety, Eric, with trembling, pale lips, threatened, "Dare to reveal your name, and I promise this isn't over! You'll pay for this!"
Seemingly feeling his intimidation was lacking, Eric gestured to the others, declaring maliciously, "And all of you, none of you will escape... My father is Timothy King, my uncle is the chief of police. Just wait... I'll make sure all of you end up behind bars!"
Nicholas couldn't help but chuckle at Eric's feeble threats.
He took two menacing steps forward, causing Eric to retreat in fear.
Nicholas said calmly, "Young man, if you have the audacity to cause trouble, be prepared to face the consequences. When you're here whining, have you ever thought about how despicable you were to bully a helpless girl just moments ago?"
"Stand down now, it's the best outcome for you," Nicholas advised softly, "Don't think of revenge. The pain you're experiencing is all your own doing..."
Eric, gripping his injured right hand, his face pallid with pain, seemed oblivious to Nicholas's words, continuing his wild ranting.
His fury and agony transformed him into something akin to a rabid beast.
Nicholas let his gaze fall, his smile fading as he no longer acknowledged the foolish rantings of the young man.
He had only offered this counsel out of consideration for the collaboration between the Prosperity Group and the Taylor Group, giving Timothy King some respect.
Yet the boy completely missed his intent.
Seeing Eric's twisted face of resentment, Nicholas could only surmise that his well-intended advice was taken as an act of cowardice.
If that was the case, there was no point in wasting more words.
Good advice is wasted on those hell-bent on their own destruction.
A wave of melancholy washed over Nicholas.
Timothy King, a renowned figure in the city's business landscape, had managed to remain influential throughout the unpredictable shifts in the business world.
How could such a man have fathered such a wretched offspring?
It made Nicholas ponder the upbringing of his own children, ensuring they never crossed paths with people they shouldn't.
At that moment, John lifted his head, flashing a cold smirk.
"How about this? I'll give you a chance. Make a call now. Whether it's to your father or that uncle of yours, the police chief you mentioned, invite them over. Let's see if they have the means to avenge you..."
A glint of hope sparkled in Eric's eyes. "Are you serious?"
John's response came with a sly grin, "I never lie."
Frantic, Eric hastily pulled out his phone with his left hand, quickly dialing a number.
As soon as the call connected, his voice, shrill and desperate, echoed, "Dad! Please come and save me..."
...
John, lounging comfortably on a plush sofa, occasionally clinked glasses with Nicholas, sharing a drink.
They sat back, amused, as Eric desperately dialed one number after another.
His demeanor was as still as the surface of a calm lake. With such an air of nonchalance, he captured the awed attention of the inexperienced students nearby. Many whispered in their hearts: This was the pinnacle they aspired to reach in their lifetimes...
John chuckled, "Nicholas, you're holding out on us. Why wasn't this fantastic wine from Graceful Waters Hotel served at Chairman Sun's banquet last time?"
Nicholas responded with a light laugh, "Mr. Foster, you jest. The wines at Chairman Sun's banquet were deemed... not suitable for the occasion."
John quirked an eyebrow, commenting casually, "I see... Perhaps I'm just accustomed to more potent drinks. These champagnes taste a tad bland to me."
Nicholas erupted in hearty laughter, with a hint of flattery, "This just shows that Mr. Foster has a robust personality, even in his choice of drink."
John playfully retorted, "You better not overpraise me. It'd be quite embarrassing if I end up inebriated later."
Nicholas winked and teased, "Worry not. If you were to get drunk here, do you think I'd leave you without a place to rest? If not for the presence of Miss Emma today, I'd make sure everything's taken care of for you..."
John cleared his throat, abruptly halting the banter, a hint of embarrassment across his face.
Beside him, Emma, leaning into John's embrace, looked up with an innocent, puzzled expression.
Fiona, on the other hand, rolled her eyes, indicating she caught the insinuation in their exchange...
John casually swirled the fine wine in his glass, sparing a glance at Eric who stood by the wall.
The man was glaring back at him with such hatred, as though looking at the murderer of his father.
Perhaps the recent phone calls had boosted Eric's confidence.
He had once again regained his earlier arrogance, holding his head high, his gaze insufferably disdainful.
Nicholas smiled gently, "Once they arrive, allow me to handle the situation. Given your esteemed status, it's beneath you to take issue with such minor characters..."
John jested, "Nicholas, the way you put it... Compared to a police chief and a major businessman, I'm clearly the minor player here."
Nicholas was left with a wry smile.
Good heavens, he hadn't met anyone who downplayed themselves to this extent before...
What kind of 'minor player' could make their own chairman treat them with such respect, almost like kin?
And what kind of 'minor player' could have the mayor hold them in such high regard that he would personally extend an invitation for a meeting?
Just then, there was a sudden rush of hurried footsteps at the entrance.
The door was thrust open, and a middle-aged man stormed in, followed by a sizable entourage.
The man had a receding hairline and a portly figure.
Despite his somewhat imposing presence, he bore a resemblance to Eric in his facial features.
Clearly, this was the chairman of Prosperity Group, Timothy King.
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