A Man Like None Other

Chapter 558 Worry For Nothing

“You can forget about leaving,” Paul shouted, taking advantage of the size of the crowd that had gathered around to garner sympathy. “I’m going to call the cops and have you arrested for assaulting me and breaking my friend’s wrist. My father will hear of this and you’re going to have hell to pay!”

It’s a good thing I shouted loud enough to attract such a large crowd. Hopefully, they wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me with that many witnesses present. For God’s sake, she broke his wrist so easily! It’s like she’s done it many times before.

Paul pulled out his phone and dialed his father’s number.

Jared glanced at the sizable crowd, his forehead slightly creased. Ingrid was pale with fright and she held on to Jared’s arm tightly.

“Don’t be afraid, Ingrid,” Josephine said in a low voice. “Nobody in Horington dares to lift a finger on me.”

Just when Paul pressed his phone to his ear, his father arrived at top speed. Flanked on either side by his men, they squeezed their way through the crowd. Jean’s temper flared at the sight of his son.

“You little sh*t!” he shouted. “I gave you the tickets for you to enjoy the show, not to cause trouble!”

Jean strode forward and was about to slap Paul when the latter held out his hand.

Paul explained hastily, frightened out of his wits. “I was slapped in the face first. Here! You can still see her handprint. After that, they broke

closer look and sure enough, he found a red handprint across his son’s cheek. Next, he turned to look at Paul’s friend whose face was still

was the one to have struck you?” Jean demanded, swelling up with rage. “Did you

not count amongst the elite in Horington, their name still commanded

was her! She

in the direction his son’s finger indicated before stiffening up in

hurried forward to pull his father back to

ferocious slap across the face before scurrying

dumbfounded crowd. “I apologize for the actions of my son. I hereby humbly hand him over to you to punish him as

friends were all

friends

have caused trouble with them if I had known what kind of

voice came from the crowd. “The lady who’d slapped you was Ms. Sullivan. With her are Mr. Grange’s granddaughter, and the famous Mr. Chance from Horington. Even Tommy is a

front of his pants became soaked with hot urine as the crowd roared

them are people not to be trifled with! One wrong word might spell the end of the Yateses. Oh no, I seem to