Lucas set down his teacup, the corner of his mouth curling into an amused arc. He rose unhurriedly. "Gentlemen. Breaking into a private residence is against the law."
"Cut the crap! Peter Harding owes us fifty million in gambling debt! If he doesn't pay today, we're tearing this place apart!"
The bald brute jabbed a finger at me.
Madeline shrieked immediately. "Oh my God! I knew it—he's a spendthrift! Sir, kick him out now! Don't let him drag the Gilbert family down!"
Lucas turned to me, gaze ice-cold. "Peter Harding. The trouble you caused, you clean up. Don't dirty my family's floor."
I took a deep breath and tossed aside the cherries.
Time to act.
Back screaming in pain, I still sprang up from the daybed.
Not running backward.
Instead, I grabbed the small bench beside me and charged straight at Lucas like a man possessed.
I planted myself in front of him, using my not-broad shoulders to block all lines of sight.
"Who dares touch my son!"
That shout cracked my voice.
My momentum was off the charts.
The whole room went dead silent.
Even the bald brute froze—this wasn't in the script, was it?
He instinctively glanced at Lucas.
Lucas frowned and signaled him to continue.
The bald guy gritted his teeth and rushed at me, swinging the club: "Still talking tough! Get him!"
"Son, run!"
I roared, shoving Lucas toward safety.
Then I lunged straight at the bald brute.
I wrapped my arms around his leg, my whole body hanging off him.
"Every dollar the Gilbert family owes will be paid! Come at me! Don't touch my son!"
Fists rained down on me.
I'd dodged the vital spots and used technique to deflect most of the force.
But that didn't stop me from screaming like I was dying.
"Ah! Not the face! My son still has to look at it!"
"Ugh! This fifty million is what I owe—it has nothing to do with my son!"
"Lucas! Forget about me! Call the cops! Run!"
I called out between blows, voice dripping with paternal devotion.
Like a dying swan's final song—heartbreaking to witness, impossible not to tear up.
Lucas stood frozen.
His script had me kneeling, begging, confessing to gambling debts, then getting thrown out.
Not shielding him with my body and getting beaten half to death!
After all, even a domineering CEO has to follow the law these days.
"Enough!"
Lucas finally snapped.
He rushed over and kicked the bald guy—still in professional character—clean off me.
"Get the hell out! All of you!"
He roared, eyes blazing red.