Son-In-Law Madness

Chapter 842

Wrapping her hands around Donald's thigh, she pleaded, “Sir, he's my husband. He's just curious about what you're talking about and bear you no ill will. Please let him go, Sir.”

Donald sneered, “Just curious? Fine. Tell him to come over here. I want to hear it from his own mouth.”

The man lying on the floor hesitated, not knowing if he should approach Donald or not.

“What are you spacing out for? Didn't you hear what he said? Hurry up and get over here!”

The exasperated Laila dashed forward and gave the man a slap.

Jolted into submission, the man came forward with his head lowered, fearful of making eye contact with Donald.

“Were you eavesdropping on us only out of curiosity?”

“Y-Yes...”

“Since you're a chef, I suppose you're not a Stella Warrior?”

The man answered quizzically, “What's a Stella Warrior? I have no idea what you're talking about.”

A grin emerged on Donald's face as he grabbed the man's wrist abruptly and said in an indifferent tone, “I will now inject the energy of a Stella Warrior into your body and allow it to course through your system. If you're not a Stella Warrior, there will be nothing to worry about. If you are, your energy will clash with mine, causing you to explode like a balloon.”

No sooner had Donald finished than he unleashed his energy through his hand.

Panic gripped the man when he could clearly feel Donald's action.

“Stay away from me!”

Sensing that his body was expanding, the man shoved Donald's hand away without any hesitation.

Donald responded with a snort before grabbing hold of the man with his right hand.

Despite the man's attempt to block it by reflex, he never stood any chance against Donald.

A loud crack was all Laila heard when the man's neck was subsequently snapped.

She could only gape in shock as she watched the man slump lifelessly down to her feet.

With hatred brimming in her eyes, she snarled, “Even if my husband was a Stella Warrior, it didn't mean you could kill him indiscriminately.”

Donald picked up a napkin from the table to wipe his hands as he replied, “Obviously, I didn't kill him for that reason. It was his eavesdropping on military secrets and attempt to assassinate me that caused his undoing. More importantly, he has the tattoo of Bloody Hand on his body. Lady, it looks like there's more to you than meets the eye, huh? Tell me, why exactly did you come to Pollerton?”

Sophus had just mentioned Bloody Hand to Donald. Little did he expect their members to be stalking

him from the shadows.

The realization caused him to break out in a cold sweat.

If Donald hadn't discovered that someone was eavesdropping, the ambush they were preparing for Earl the next day would have backfired on them.

The loss that could have resulted would be unacceptable to the South Sea Military Region.

Donald was right when he declared that the man deserved to die.

That said, Sophus was still curious as to why Donald didn't keep the man alive for questioning and had chosen to kill him on the spot.

Laila sneered, “You killed my husband. There's no way you're going to get anything out of me. Since death is the worst that can happen to me, I dare you to kill me right now!”

From the moment they stepped into the restaurant, Donald had noticed Laila looking at them awkwardly.

He just didn't give it much thought initially and assumed that she had rarely seen such an authoritative group of people.

From the way things stood, it was evident that Laila's position in Bloody Hand was higher than that of the dead man.

After all, the organization would never send a defenseless woman to work as a spy, and that was the

reason why Donald didn't hesitate to kill the man earlier.

Firstly, he wanted to rattle her. Secondly, he wanted to let her know that he could kill at a moment's notice and meant business.

“You're clearly not afraid to die, but I wonder if you would fear for someone else's life.” Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Laila cocked a brow as she felt on edge.

“I believe that you're a couple who run this restaurant as a front for your intelligence activities. However, from the operation of this restaurant, it's clear that you have put real effort into it. That is to say, you care about the quality of the food and its profits. But why would such trivial matters be important to a spy?” Donald glanced at the menu on the table. “Not to mention that your specialties here are all home-cooked meals.”

Laila clenched her fists and gritted her teeth in silence.

“I suppose you have a child studying in Pollerton, isn't it?”

A cold glint flashed across Laila's eyes. “If you dare touch my kid, I won't let you off even in death!”

“Can you not be so dramatic? I'm not afraid of you alive. What makes you think I'll fear you when you're dead?” Donald continued flatly, “I'll definitely not do anything to him if he has not committed any crimes. But I can still haul you away in front of his eyes.”

Under normal circumstances, someone like Laila wouldn't have joined an organization like Bloody Hand unless they were forced to do so.

In other words, no one in their right mind would want to live on the edge if one had the choice of a stable life.

It was precisely because Laila and her husband were sick of their lives that they made sure the next generation didn't have to walk down the same tragic path they had.

If their child were to learn that they were core members of a foreign terrorist organization, the impact on him would be devastating.

The thought caused tears to streak down Laila's cheeks.

She looked at Donald and said, “I can tell you everything you want to know in exchange for your protection.”

“You have no right to make any demands, but I can guarantee that Bloody Hand won't lay a finger on you as long as you're in Yorksland.”

Laila couldn't help but be awed by Donald's authoritative tone.

Who in the world is this man? Why does he exude such gravitas?

After exposing Laila as a spy from Bloody Hand, Donald let Sophus tie up all the loose ends.

Upon taking a cab back to the mansion, Donald was greeted by the sight of the three women wearing

hats made of newspaper, painting Hannah's room wall.

Given how pretty the three of them were, the paint that had stained their faces made them look even more adorable.

“Darling, Hannah said that you abandoned her while shopping. Is that true?”

Holding a paintbrush in her hand, Jennifer stared at him with righteous indignation as if she was seeking justice for Hannah.

Donald replied with a wry smile, “I met an old friend at the building materials market and couldn't help chatting with him.”

“Who can possibly be more important than Hannah?” Jennifer walked up to Donald and stuffed the paintbrush into his hand. “Take this. As punishment, you're to paint Hannah's entire room wall.”

Donald was stumped as he glanced at the four walls of the room.

What in the world is this? These girls were never serious about painting the room.