Chapter 320: Chapter 320: Beating You Up
"Leon...Leon Keane."
Shelton Hale’s arrogant demeanor instantly wilted.
Shelton Hale was terrified inside; he cursed so loudly and offensively just now. Did Leon Keane hear him? Probably not, right? This is a top-tier luxury car, and the windows are well-sealed.
He plastered on a smile.
"What a coincidence! President Kane, do you have a place here too?"
"No coincidence, I don’t have a place here."
Leon Keane’s voice was deep, exuding a dangerous vibe as he approached Shelton Hale.
"Then President Kane is here to..."
Shelton Hale felt his heart race, a bad premonition creeping over him, as if Leon Keane was coming straight for him.
Shelton Hale had the urge to turn and flee.
"To beat you up."
Leon Keane coldly spat out two words, while reaching out to grab Shelton Hale’s collar, giving him no chance to escape. A fierce punch landed on Shelton Hale’s face.
"Ah!"
Shelton Hale let out a scream like a butchered pig.
Three luxury cars followed closely behind.
Howard Yeats, Ken Mercer, and Lionel got out from the driver’s seats.
Ken Mercer said to Lionel: "It’s too gruesome ahead, you better stay here, don’t let the cars blocked in the garage start honking."
This task was a bit tricky; Lionel was a scholar.
Lionel: "The mouths belong to others; how can I shut them?"
Ken Mercer reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a wad of red notes and shoved it into Lionel’s hand: "Money can shut people’s mouths."
Ken Mercer received a call from Howard Yeats, saying that Leon Keane’s fiancée had been harmed, and Leon was going to settle the score with the culprit. Who dared to touch a brother’s wife? Howard Yeats immediately asked for the time and location, then notified Ken Mercer and Lionel.
Ken Mercer, upon hearing the location was a garage in a residential area, immediately foresaw what could happen. He withdrew over a hundred thousand in cash from his card, handed about thirty thousand to Lionel, while the car held another hundred thousand.
This money could resolve any blockages in the garage.
Howard Yeats heard Shelton Hale’s cries of despair; he dashed over, seeing Shelton Hale beaten to the ground by Leon Keane, curled up like a begging dog.
"Damn."
Howard Yeats cursed; now he begs for mercy? Why didn’t he consider this outcome when he harmed Ivana Monroe? Enraged, Howard Yeats lifted his foot and kicked fiercely towards Shelton Hale’s head.
Suddenly, Leon Keane pulled him back.
Howard Yeats missed the kick.
"Leon, don’t stop me, I want to kick this bastard to death." This bastard dared to touch Ivana Monroe? Ivana Monroe is his brother’s woman.
This bastard is tired of living.
"This has nothing to do with you, I want to do it myself."
Leon Keane’s voice was extremely cold.
Ivana Monroe was his woman; he didn’t want any other man involved in this matter, not even his brother.
Howard Yeats was taken aback: "Alright."
Leon Keane, like a terrifying demon, kicked fiercely at Shelton Hale’s body. His kicks were powerful, and with top-tier shoes, each strike felt like a brick smashing down—unspeakably painful.
"President Kane, stop kicking, I’ve realized my mistake, I was wrong... I shouldn’t have regulated poorly, giving Leo Griffin and Evan Reed the chance to harm your person."
Leo Griffin had already confessed.
Shelton Hale still wouldn’t admit it? Trying to shift the blame onto Leo Griffin and Evan Reed?
Leon Keane’s cold lips curled; Shelton Hale was afraid of being beaten, so at this moment, he certainly wouldn’t admit it.
Leon Keane kicked harder.
Howard Yeats cursed: "Damn, you think by not admitting, we’ll let you off? Leon, kick him to death."
A car entered the garage, its space blocked by the cars ahead.
The owner honked the horn.
Lionel approached the driver’s window as it rolled down.
"What’s happening ahead?"
"A little accident happened ahead, you need to wait for about an hour."
The car owner felt he was on the verge of breaking down; already exhausted from work, now to wait an hour in the car?
The car owner wanted to curse.
Suddenly.
Lionel stuffed a wad of red notes into the owner’s hand.
"Thank you, this is from our boss."
After handing over the money, Lionel walked to the back of the car.
Waiting for the next one.
The car owner was stunned, counted the money, finding 1800, surveyed the luxury car in front—a Mercedes, a model unseen in Ravenswood—and remembered Lion’s words "the boss."
The owner swallowed cold saliva, not only stopped honking but didn’t dare step out, rolling up the window, fearing to provoke those he shouldn’t.
He heard Shelton Hale’s heart-wrenching screams and cries for help, yet he dared not call the police.
Who was he kidding?
This mysterious "boss" handed him a few days’ wages to seal his mouth. If he "betrayed," he might face the "boss’s" furious revenge.
His car had a license plate; even if not noted now, the garage cameras could track him down.
There’s a code among folks; probably, that screaming guy isn’t someone good—otherwise, how could he provoke the "boss," who blocked the garage with several luxury cars to beat him up?
Ken Mercer’s money worked wonders.
Lionel, with this trick, easily pacified a dozen cars that arrived later.
Lionel also noticed how high the quality of these owners was; after receiving money, they stopped honking, didn’t step out of cars, even willingly closed windows, acting as if nothing was happening outside.
A full half hour passed.
Shelton Hale was beaten to unbearable agony, feeling on the brink of death, his pleading voice faded, yet Leon Keane continued mercilessly, stomping and breaking his wrist and fingers.
Shelton Hale cried in anguish, overwhelmed by despair and societal disdain. Wasn’t it rush hour? Wasn’t anyone entering the garage?
While beaten, he distinctly heard several cars honking, yet why didn’t they check it out? Help stop Leon? Or call the police?
What’s wrong with society?
So cold-hearted?
Those indifferent folks aren’t deserving of being human.
Shelton Hale inwardly cursed those people, wishing them all to be animals in the next life, to be abused and killed animals.
Leon Keane got tired of kicking.
His low voice decreed: "Crawl back home. Remember, starting tomorrow, if you step outside for hospital treatment, every time I find out, I’ll beat you again."
"I remember, remember, thank you, President Kane, for sparing my life."
Shelton Hale was scared out of his wits, trembling all over, hearing Leon spare him, he answered swiftly, fearing Leon might change his mind.
Howard Yeats was baffled; just letting him off like that?
Wasn’t it too lenient.
Leon Keane turned back to the luxury car.
Shelton Hale heard the car engine start, panic-stricken, quickly crawling up; suddenly, sharp pain surged from his right hand, as if knives scraped his wrist’s bones.
Shelton Hale fell to the ground again, like a dog, rolling his body aside to dodge Leon Keane’s car.