Chapter 321: Chapter 321: You Went to the Wrong Door
"Leon was too merciful to him. This kind of bastard deserves to be beaten to death."
Leon Keane’s Bugatti Veyron drove away, but Howard Yeats stayed behind.
He was really upset.
Taking a few steps forward, he kicked Shelton Hale in the face with brutal force, causing Shelton’s face to swell, his nose to break, and blood to pour out.
"Howard, what are you doing? You’ll beat him to death this way."
Ken Mercer reached out to stop Howard Yeats from continuing to kick Shelton Hale.
"He deserves to die."
"Yes, yes, he deserves to die, but Leon will be angry."
Ken Mercer warned Howard Yeats.
It’s too easy to beat someone to death.
This isn’t the result Leon wants; Leon wants this bastard to suffer while alive.
Howard Yeats stopped his assault on Shelton Hale, pointed at the man groaning in pain on the ground, and viciously said, "If you dare touch a single hair on Ivana Monroe’s head again, I’ll chop your hand into pieces inch by inch."
Shelton Hale was in so much pain he couldn’t speak; all the agony and disaster of his life had never come as much as today’s, all at once.
Howard Yeats swaggered away.
Ken Mercer stood in place, muttering, "What’s wrong with Howard? He’s so furious knowing Ivana Monroe got hurt, as if it were his own girlfriend."
"Could it be that Howard feels for Ivana..."
Ken Mercer shook his head.
Impossible, impossible.
Howard is interested in Ivy Linden.
Could Howard be trying to use this incident to ingratiate himself with Ivy Linden?
His brother isn’t that kind of person.
Shelton Hale lay on the ground, taking a long time before he crawled up, completely unable to drive anymore. He backed the car into the garage with the help of the driver behind him.
"Could you take me to the hospital? I’ll pay you for the ride."
Leon Keane said he couldn’t go to the hospital tomorrow, but not today.
Shelton Hale wanted to exploit this loophole and quickly go to the hospital to treat his injuries.
"I have urgent matters at home; find someone else!"
The driver was frightened seeing how badly Shelton Hale was beaten and reluctantly helped him reverse the car into the garage.
He had been paid, so how could he help Shelton Hale?
The driver fled like one avoiding the plague after speaking, running to his own car and hitting the accelerator to park.
"Damn it."
Shelton Hale cursed foully.
He tried to flag down other cars.
But no one paid attention to him.
Shelton Hale felt disheartened: "Damn it, these bastards have no conscience, ignoring someone in distress."
When Leon Keane beat Shelton Hale, his phone fell to the ground and was kicked and broken. He was now stranded, unable to get help, and could only return home, where his parents lived, and have them call an ambulance.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.
The door was opened.
"Who’s that? Keeps ringing the doorbell?" Frances Webb complained.
Seeing Shelton Hale outside, she was startled and didn’t recognize her own son: "You’ve got the wrong door."
Bam!
Frances Webb slammed the door shut heavily.
"What was that for? Slamming the door so loudly? Did you see a ghost?" Jordan Hale was reading the newspaper and the doorbell had already irked him enough. Frances Webb’s door slam was so loud it nearly scared his soul out.
Jordan Hale was very displeased.
Frances Webb clutched her heart.
"I did see a ghost; there’s a young guy outside, covered in blood, scarier than a ghost."
Just as Frances Webb finished speaking, the doorbell rang again.
Frances Webb was scared again: "Why is he still ringing? Didn’t he say it’s the wrong door? Does the guy outside have a problem with his brain?"
"Just ignore him."
Jordan Hale folded the newspaper, went into the bedroom, and after closing the door, the doorbell sounded much quieter. He resumed reading the newspaper.
Taking Jordan Hale’s advice, Frances Webb ignored Shelton Hale outside, turned on the TV, and increased the volume to watch the latest popular soap opera.
The TV sound drowned out the doorbell noise.
Frances Webb watched intently.
Outside, Shelton Hale was devastated; he was in immense pain all over, especially his wrist. Expressing such pain with "life-threatening agony" wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
"Open the door, open the door, quickly open the door!"
Shelton Hale wailed in agony outside, nearly going insane.
Unfortunately, Frances Webb inside couldn’t hear it.
Shelton Hale furiously pressed the doorbell, doing so for over ten minutes, then kicked the door.
The two "immortals" inside, one reading a newspaper and the other watching TV, sat there as steady as ever, completely unmoved.
Thud~
Shelton Hale, overwhelmed with anger, suddenly spat a mouthful of blood, his vision blackened, and he collapsed.
About two hours later.
Frances Webb’s soap opera marathon ended. She glanced at the clock in the living room and murmured, "It’s already eight, why hasn’t Shelton come back? Didn’t he say there’s no need to work overtime for the next few days?"
Jordan Hale finished reading his newspapers, left the bedroom, and asked, "Has Shelton come back yet? I’m about to starve."
Shelton Hale hadn’t mentioned working overtime, so Frances Webb usually waited for him to return before having dinner.
"Not yet, I’ll call and ask."
Frances Webb picked up the phone and dialed Shelton Hale’s number, receiving a mechanical voice in response.
"Hello, the number you have dialed is turned off."
Frances Webb frowned: "Why is it off?"
Jordan Hale said: "It’s surely out of battery. Alright, don’t wait for him any longer, it’s already eight. If he’s not working overtime, he must be out with friends. You don’t need to worry about him starving. Let’s eat!"
Frances Webb thought about it and agreed.
After dinner.
Frances Webb cleaned up the dishes, then showered and went to bed.
Whenever Shelton went out with friends, he would stay out until after midnight before coming home. Being older, Frances Webb had a habit of sleeping before ten, as she was quite health-conscious.
It wasn’t until the next day upon awakening.
Frances Webb found Shelton Hale hadn’t come back; she began to worry.
She dialed Shelton Hale’s number again, still its off.
"Could something have happened?"
Frances Webb knocked herself on the mouth: "Phooey, phooey, phooey, bad things never actualize; good things come true. Shelton will definitely be alright."
Despite her words, Frances Webb still called Jack Quinn.
Shelton Hale and Jack Quinn worked at the same hospital and often went out together.
She called several times, but Jack Quinn didn’t pick up.
Seeing Jordan Hale finished washing up, Frances Webb looked anxious and said: "Old man, our son hasn’t come home yet and his phone’s still off. Jack Quinn isn’t answering either; I’m getting worried."
Jordan Hale rolled his eyes at her: "What are you worried about? Shelton isn’t a three-year-old child. Get on with making breakfast for me; our son’s life is his own; yours should revolve around me."
Frances Webb, scolded by Jordan Hale, reconsidered and wasn’t as anxious.
After breakfast.
Frances Webb went out to buy groceries. Opening the door, she was shocked by the sight in front of her and screamed suddenly: "Ah~ There’s a dead body."
Jordan Hale was startled by Frances Webb’s scream. He rushed out and, upon seeing, his heart palpitated with fear.
Jordan Hale noticed the watch on Shelton Hale’s wrist, his face changing dramatically: "He... he seems like our son."
Upon hearing "our son," Frances Webb was overwhelmed: "Old man, don’t say such things."
Jordan Hale’s face was ashen as he said: "Look at the watch on his wrist; I brought it back from H country for him as a gift. Don’t say so much; call an ambulance quickly."