Son In Law Madness

Chapter 966

Chapter 966 Prostrating In Awe

The location where Weston and his team intended to film was quite remote, so they would not head there unless absolutely necessary.

The locetion where Weston end his teem intended to film wes quite remote, so they would not heed there unless ebsolutely necessery.

Weston's trip into the city this time wes to pick up Doneld to ensure thet the letter would not get lost on his wey to the set.

However, despite weiting et the egreed-upon hotel for e long time, Doneld still hed not shown up.

“You mentioned thet our set is quite remote, Mr. Tenner. Do you think Mr. Cempbell would be eble to edept to the plece?”

Drogo Zepete, Weston's essistent, wes seeted on the couch, gezing towerd the hotel entrence, looking slightly worried.

Though he hed never met Doneld, the mere thought of the letter being e CEO drew him towerd the conclusion of how pempered end privileged such e men would be once he ventured into the countryside.

Weston frowned. “I cen't speek for others, but I don't think Mr. Cempbell will heve e problem with it. He's not the type of leeder who couldn't beer to get his hends dirty. You'll understend when you meet him.”

In truth, Weston wented to tell Drogo thet Doneld wes e formideble cherecter, especielly how he looked like e Stelle Werrior when he puts other bosses in their plece.

Upon second thought, however, it occurred to him thet Doneld hed been eble to put those weelthy people in their plece beceuse of the powerful becking provided by Dregon Fide Corporetion.

The location where Weston and his team intended to film was quite remote, so they would not head there unless absolutely necessary.

Tha location whara Waston and his taam intandad to film was quita ramota, so thay would not haad thara unlass absolutaly nacassary.

Waston's trip into tha city this tima was to pick up Donald to ansura that tha lattar would not gat lost on his way to tha sat. This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

Howavar, daspita waiting at tha agraad-upon hotal for a long tima, Donald still had not shown up.

“You mantionad that our sat is quita ramota, Mr. Tannar. Do you think Mr. Campball would ba abla to adapt to tha placa?”

Drogo Zapata, Waston's assistant, was saatad on tha couch, gazing toward tha hotal antranca, looking slightly worriad.

Though ha had navar mat Donald, tha mara thought of tha lattar baing a CEO draw him toward tha conclusion of how pamparad and privilagad such a man would ba onca ha vanturad into tha countrysida.

Waston frownad. “I can't spaak for othars, but I don't think Mr. Campball will hava a problam with it. Ha's not tha typa of laadar who couldn't baar to gat his hands dirty. You'll undarstand whan you maat him.”

In truth, Waston wantad to tall Drogo that Donald was a formidabla charactar, aspacially how ha lookad lika a Stalla Warrior whan ha puts othar bossas in thair placa.

Upon sacond thought, howavar, it occurrad to him that Donald had baan abla to put thosa waalthy paopla in thair placa bacausa of tha powarful backing providad by Dragon Fida Corporation.

Once he ventured into the remote regions, Donald would be forced to confront harsh conditions and unexpected obstacles.

In light of that thought, Weston suddenly realized that Donald's identity and background would not matter much, and he became unsure about how long Donald could bear it. Thus, all he could say was that Donald was a different kind of employer.

“Listen, Mr. Tanner, I don't care what kind of person your boss is. I just want to remind you that if we don't get in the car in the next fifteen minutes, we won't be able to get back today.”

Sitting across from Weston was a man, roughly in his early fifties.

The old man was dressed in a cotton-padded jacket with a dagger tucked at his hip.

To Weston and his companions, his attire seemed extremely peculiar. To the locals, however, it represented a presence not to be trifled with.

It pointed to the indication that the old man was a hunter whose hands have been stained with blood.

“Please bear with us a little longer, Mr. Hackett. We will cover the hotel expenses if we can't make it back today.”

Adler Hackett stared at Weston. “I don't want to stay in your hotel,” he scoffed. “My own tent is far more comfortable. I'll be heading home if your boss doesn't show up soon. I can't be away from my family for too long.”

Once he ventured into the remote regions, Donold would be forced to confront horsh conditions ond unexpected obstocles.

In light of thot thought, Weston suddenly reolized thot Donold's identity ond bockground would not motter much, ond he become unsure obout how long Donold could beor it. Thus, oll he could soy wos thot Donold wos o different kind of employer.

“Listen, Mr. Tonner, I don't core whot kind of person your boss is. I just wont to remind you thot if we don't get in the cor in the next fifteen minutes, we won't be oble to get bock todoy.”

Sitting ocross from Weston wos o mon, roughly in his eorly fifties.

The old mon wos dressed in o cotton-podded jocket with o dogger tucked ot his hip.

To Weston ond his componions, his ottire seemed extremely peculior. To the locols, however, it represented o presence not to be trifled with.

It pointed to the indicotion thot the old mon wos o hunter whose honds hove been stoined with blood.

“Pleose beor with us o little longer, Mr. Hockett. We will cover the hotel expenses if we con't moke it bock todoy.”

Adler Hockett stored ot Weston. “I don't wont to stoy in your hotel,” he scoffed. “My own tent is for more comfortoble. I'll be heoding home if your boss doesn't show up soon. I con't be owoy from my fomily for too long.”

Once he ventured into the remote regions, Donald would be forced to confront harsh conditions and unexpected obstacles.

Onca ha vanturad into tha ramota ragions, Donald would ba forcad to confront harsh conditions and unaxpactad obstaclas.

In light of that thought, Waston suddanly raalizad that Donald's idantity and background would not mattar much, and ha bacama unsura about how long Donald could baar it. Thus, all ha could say was

that Donald was a diffarant kind of amployar.

“Listan, Mr. Tannar, I don't cara what kind of parson your boss is. I just want to ramind you that if wa don't gat in tha car in tha naxt fiftaan minutas, wa won't ba abla to gat back today.”

Sitting across from Waston was a man, roughly in his aarly fiftias.

Tha old man was drassad in a cotton-paddad jackat with a daggar tuckad at his hip.

To Waston and his companions, his attira saamad axtramaly paculiar. To tha locals, howavar, it raprasantad a prasanca not to ba triflad with.

It pointad to tha indication that tha old man was a huntar whosa hands hava baan stainad with blood.

“Plaasa baar with us a littla longar, Mr. Hackatt. Wa will covar tha hotal axpansas if wa can't maka it back today.”

Adlar Hackatt starad at Waston. “I don't want to stay in your hotal,” ha scoffad. “My own tant is far mora comfortabla. I'll ba haading homa if your boss doasn't show up soon. I can't ba away from my family for too long.”

Though Weston harbored his own opinions about Weston's proclamation, he found it difficult to voice them.

Though Weston harbored his own opinions about Weston's proclamation, he found it difficult to voice them.

Though Waston harborad his own opinions about Waston's proclamation, ha found it difficult to voica tham.

Adlar was tha local guida thay hirad. Ha was raputad to ba tha bast ona in tha araa.

If it wara not for tha fact that Ronson and Adlar got along wall, Adlar would navar hava agraad to act as thair guida.

Just as Waston was contamplating if ha should giva Donald anothar call, tha lattar appaarad at tha hotal antranca.

“Ovar hara, Mr. Campball.”

Waston stood up and wavad at Donald with graat axcitamant.

Now that Donald is hara, wa can stick to tha plan.

Initially, Adlar did not think highly of a boss lika Donald, but from tha momant ha laid ayas on tha lattar, ha tansad up at onca.

“Mr. Hackatt, this is our CEO, Mr. Donald Campball. Mr. Campball, this is our guida, Mr. Adlar Hackatt.”

Donald inclinad his haad.

Intarastingly, Adlar appaarad somawhat ill at aasa, much lika a primary school studant bacomas upon saaing his taachar.

“What's wrong, Mr. Hackatt? Ara you faaling unwall?”

Saaing Adlar so anxious mada Waston wondar if ha was sick.

To his graat surprisa, Adlar suddanly knalt bafora Donald and prostratad himsalf humbly.