Chapter 4

In the first-floor lobby, my mom's jewelry store had been emptied out.

Several security guards stood at the entrance, arguing with my mom.

"Ms. Vesca, you haven't paid the penalty fee yet. You can't take everything."

The head of security held a walkie-talkie, blocking the truck.

My mom sat in a wheelchair.

Yes, a wheelchair.

She'd deliberately gone to the hospital this morning to get a fake medical note claiming her herniated disc had flared up, then rented a wheelchair and rolled over.

"Penalty fee? I still have five hundred thousand in deposit with your property management!"

My mom's voice was vigorous as she pointed at the security chief's nose.

"Deduct the penalty from that, and you still owe me two hundred thousand! Now get out of the way and stop delaying my medical appointment!"

"Marshall said the deposit process takes three months. The penalty fee must be paid in cash today."

The security chief stood firm.

I walked over and pushed him aside.

"Three months? The contract says deposits are refunded within fifteen business days after termination."

"That's for normal terminations. This is malicious breach!"

Marshall's voice came from behind.

He approached with several property staff, strolling over leisurely.

"Ms. Vesca, Leon, did your whole family plan this together?"

Marshall glanced at the emptied jewelry store.

"First floor termination, third floor termination. What, trying to pressure me by banding together?"

He laughed coldly.

"Let me tell you, this mall doesn't need you small-time tenants. You want to leave? Fine. But the penalty fee won't be reduced by a cent. The deposit? Wait for the process."

I looked at him.

"Marshall, do you think you've got us cornered?"

"Yes. What else?"

He stepped closer and lowered his voice.

"I'll tell you the truth. Santos doesn't just want the third floor. She wants to use this first-floor spot for her flagship store."

"You leaving is perfect. Saves me the trouble of kicking you out."

"But if you want to leave smoothly, it won't be that easy."

He pointed at the truck outside.

"That truck isn't leaving the mall gates today without my authorization."

Richard emerged from the stairwell.

He wore a tight black T-shirt that stretched over his muscles, followed by a dozen equally muscular gym trainers.

"Who says it's not leaving?"

Richard walked to my side, staring coldly at Marshall.

Marshall instinctively stepped back and swallowed.

"Richard, don't do anything rash. This is a society of law. If you dare use force, I'll call the police immediately."

"Call the police?" Richard smiled.

He pulled a stack of photos from his pocket and threw them in Marshall's face.

"Take a look at these."

The photos scattered on the floor—all billing statements from property management.

"Over the past two years, you've charged us equipment maintenance fees, hallway cleaning fees, even air purification fees under various pretenses."

Richard pointed at the photos on the ground.

"Which of these went into the mall's corporate account? They all went into your wife Mary's private card, didn't they?"

Marshall's face changed instantly.

"You... you're making this up! These are forged!"

"Whether they're forged or not, let's call the police and find out."

The fifth-floor elevator opened.

Brennan came out with several subordinates, pushing the last batch of computer towers.

"I recorded everything." Brennan waved his phone.

"Marshall just blocked us from leaving and extorted cash. That's blackmail, right?"

Marshall completely panicked.

He looked at Richard's muscles, then at the phone in Brennan's hand.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Misunderstanding... it's all a misunderstanding."

He quickly bent down to pick up the photos from the floor.

"We're all old acquaintances. No need to make this so ugly."

"I'll waive the penalty fee from the deposit. I'll have accounting transfer the rest to you tomorrow."

I looked at his pathetic face.

"No need to wait until tomorrow. Do it now."

"Now? Accounting is off work..."

"Then use your personal money to advance it. You've embezzled plenty anyway."

Richard took a step forward.

Marshall flinched and quickly pulled out his phone.

"I'll transfer! I'll transfer right now!"

Ten minutes later, two hundred thousand arrived in the account.

My mom stood up from the wheelchair and dusted off her pants.

"If you'd been this cooperative from the start, we wouldn't have wasted all this time."

She pushed the wheelchair and swaggered out of the mall.

The security guards looked at each other. No one dared stop her.

The truck started and slowly drove out of the parking lot.

I looked at Marshall.

"Marshall, that oven on the third-floor hallway—it's yours now."

"Keep it to bake Santos some brains to eat."

Marshall gritted his teeth, glaring at my back.

"Leon, don't get cocky. Once you leave here, I'll watch your whole family crash and burn!"