The Double ( or More ?) Life of The Fake Heiress

Chapter 874

As the middle-aged man slammed his hand on the table, a dozen sleek black guns clicked in unison, all aimed at Grady and the two managers in the room, ready to fire at any moment.

Grady stayed cool as a cucumber. He raised his hands and leisurely clapped, nodding. "So, evidence of illegal dealings, huh?"

The middle-aged man's eyes narrowed, clearly taken aback that Grady was still playing it calm. Laughing lightly, he said, "Won't shed a tear until you see the coffin, huh? You want evidence? Fine, come with us, and you'll see."

"Who do you think you are?" Atlas had enough of this guy's bluster. Threatening Grady right to his face? Not on his watch.

The middle-aged man's face darkened as he turned his gaze to Atlas. No one had ever dared to speak to him like that. With a quick glance, he signaled his men.

But before his men could even react, Atlas had already moved. In the blink of an eye, the middle-aged man was yanked from his chair, Atlas's hand gripping his throat. It took less than five seconds.

A cold smile played at the corners of Atlas's lips, his eyes flashing with a hint of menace. "What makes you think you have the right to sit at the head of the table?"

sound. Seeing their boss suddenly held

Trying to outgun them was a joke. Each

less than a minute, the dozen armed men were disarmed, utterly

middle-aged man's face turned pale, his previous arrogance

disdainfully

on the ground in pain. If it weren't for Grady's principles of "peace and

"Losers," Atlas spat.

ring. The sound wasn't loud, but in the tense

man shivered, too scared to take

his jacket, then glanced at Atlas and the two managers. "I've said it before; we're in a civilized and harmonious society now. We should

man being choked and his men with dislocated arms were speechless: