The Son-In-Law Shot to Fame (Donald and Jennifer)

Chapter 918 Grady Quinlan

“Why's the place closed in broad daylight? Are you not doing business anymore?”

Looking in the direction of the voice, Donald saw a man in a brown leather jacket striding in arrogantly with a gang of underlings trailing behind him.

“Grady? How come you're here?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. I was just about to ask for Grady's address, and he shows up on his own.

Grady had yet to grasp the gravity of the situation. He walked up to Ashton, casually patting the latter's head, and asked smugly, “I'm asking why is the place closed in broad daylight. Have you quit doing business or what? We've checked the money you handed in last month, and it's less than half of the profit I used to make when I managed the place! Can you even run this place? If you can't, then get lost. I can randomly pick any Tom, Dick, or Harry to replace you, and they'd be more useful than you!”

Although they were outwardly known as the second and third-in-command of the Razor Gang, Ashton and Grady were actually not on equal footing at all.

With a placating smile, Ashton addressed Grady, “Grady, building a loyal customer base takes time. Just grant me another two months. I assure you, I'll be able to contribute more funds by then.”

“So, you're saying that the profits you make for the next two months will be as scarce as it was last month?” Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

Grady patted Ashton's face and said, “Ash, don't blame me for not giving you any chances. Since you don't know how to run this place, I'll personally teach you today.”

Grady extended his hand, prompting one of his subordinates to hand him a small bag of powder.

Waving the powder in Ashton's face, he said, “See this? If you circulate this stuff around this place, I guarantee that the money you turn in next month will double.”

Ashton shivered when he saw the substance in Grady's hand.

D*mn. He really has a death wish. I was trying to plead on his behalf, hoping Mr. Campbell will spare his life, yet here he is, flashing the powder right in front of Mr. Campbell.

Shuddering, Ashton spoke. “Grady, I've told you I don't mess with this stuff. Tancred also promised that I wouldn't have to...”

“Screw you!”

Before Ashton could even finish his sentence, Grady kicked him squarely in the chest, causing him to topple onto the floor.

Grumbling and cursing, Grady snapped, “Tancred only gave you a chance because he values brotherhood. I didn't expect you to really think you're all that. You don't mess with this stuff, right? Very well. Igor, from now on, you're the third-in-command of Razor Gang. This place is now under your management.”

After Grady finished his tirade, he tossed the powder in his hand to one of his subordinates standing behind him.

The subordinate, Igor Pollack, didn't appear to be easy prey. His head was adorned with tattoos even more extravagant than Ashton's.

“Throw this piece of trash out. From now on, every time I see him, I'll give him a beating!”

Just as Grady finished speaking and was about to leave, a flash of silver light unexpectedly streaked past him.

Before anyone could even make out what had just happened, Igor's right hand was severed at the wrist.

His right hand was still clutching the bag of powder, though now, fresh blood had spattered onto the clear plastic surface, creating an eerie scene.

Igor knelt on the ground, clutching his wrist and shrieking in agony, “Ah! My hand!”

“Who? Who did this!”

Subconsciously, Grady took two steps back, and his subordinates immediately stepped forward, forming a protective circle around him.

Donald, who was sitting on the bar, casually kicked the severed hand away and uttered nonchalantly, “Well, well, well. Aren't you something? To think you'd go to such lengths for money. Judging by your tone earlier, you seem like the type who values money over life, don't you? Are you mentally prepared for what's to come?”