Fritz Dolton, Zaydie's other brother-in-law, strode over with a bag tucked under his arm and a cigarette hanging from his lips.
He cast a quick glance at Zaydie, who was tightly holding his hand before his attention shifted to Donald.
“What happened? Did someone beat you up?”
At Fritz's arrival, Zaydie wasted no time venting his frustration. “Fritz! I intended to kick Pharrell out today and enforce the terms of the contract, but this man showed up out of nowhere and disrupted everything by violently attacking all of us!”
Fritz approached Donald without hesitation. His anger flared when he noticed Donald was still seated in the chair showing no intention of standing up. “You've got some nerve to assault my men in my own territory, huh? What's your name?” he demanded.
To Donald, Fritz was just a nouveau riche who didn't pose any threat.
What caught Donald's attention was the man standing behind Fritz.
The man was dressed in a military uniform that indicated his affiliation with the Special Operation Force.
He had deliberately concealed his identity by removing his badges, and a gun was holstered at his hip.
He walked up to Fritz and said assertively. “Mr. Dolton, why bother wasting time talking to him? Just contact the local police station and have him detained for a few days. I guarantee he'll cooperate after that.”
Fritz smiled and replied, “Gren, you don't understand. We can't simply hand over a guy like him to the police. They often go easy on such offenders. We need to teach him a lesson ourselves before considering the police station.”
Both Fritz and Gren sounded arrogant as though they were in charge of all the police stations in Pollerton.
Donald yawned and asked, “Is this the best you've got, Zaydie? If so, I must say, I'm incredibly disappointed.”
Hearing that, Fritz charged forward, intending to give Donald a slap.
Zaydie quickly pulled him back. “Fritz, this man is skilled in fighting. Don't do anything rash.”
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