In the sleek, dark offices of the Pock Group, a man in a meticulously tailored ck suit exuded a


    chilling aura, his arms crossed as he faced the overreaching middle-aged man before him.


    Palmer slowly removed his gold-rimmed spectacles, which served a purpose beyond aiding his


    vision, and methodically polished them with a cloth.


    "Your demands are simply ludicrous. It seems you might have had one too many at the pubst


    night. If you are facing any mental afflictions, I wouldn''t mind arranging some professional help for


    you."


    Eamon Pock''s face shifted through a spectrum of colors.


    "My dear nephew, thepany is a big pie, and it''s not just for you to carve up. I''m merely asking


    for my fair share of the stocks," Eamon insisted.


    The majority stake in the Pock Group was firmly in Palmer''s grasp, with a significant portion


    allocated to Sexton and only scraps left for everyone else. Eamon''s eyes were set on the slice of


    the pie held by Sexton.


    Palmer sneered with contempt. "Dream on!"


    Eamon mmed his fist on the table, his corpulent frame quivering with rage.


    Momentster, he scoffed. "My dear nephew, you''re riding high now, but would your littledy friend


    feel the same?"


    Palmer''s brow furrowed instantly. "What are you implying?"


    Reading Palmer''s reaction like a book, Eamon knew he''d hit a nerve.


    "Hah, my naive nephew, as your elder, I think it''s time I teach you a lesson. To truly steer the ship,


    you can''t afford weaknesses. I''ll relieve you of this burden, and you should thank me for it!"


    Eamon''s expression turned sinister. "My dear nephew, it''s your own high-profile antics that put Ms.


    Schnabel in the spotlight. If you hadn''t unted her at the auction, I wouldn''t know where your


    affections lie."


    He was about to add more when a sudden, severe pain shot through his leg!


    Looking down, Eamon saw the gun pointed at him and his own thigh bleeding profusely. Palmer''s


    eyes were filled with murderous intent, striking fear into Eamon''s heart.


    Gritting his teeth, Palmer hissed, "Uncle Eamon, if a single hair falls from Noe''s head, I will hold


    you and your entire family ountable!"


    The fear in Eamon''s heart was indescribable. He realized at that moment that Palmer''s previous


    inaction wasn''t due tock of courage. Palmer''s methods were far more terrifying than Eamon and


    his associates could have ever imagined.


    Discarding Eamon''s trembling body, Palmer strode out of the office, his pace urgent. He rushed to


    the parking lot, mmed the car into gear, and sped off.


    After several unanswered calls to Noe, despite knowing she was more than capable of taking


    care of herself and should have someone with her, Palmer''s heart refused to settle.


    Memories of his youth shed before his eyes as he saw the same scene unfold once more.


    With mmy hands gripping the steering wheel, he drove relentlessly until he reached the antique


    shop.


    Megrez was whistling while hosing down bloodstains on the stairs. The sight of Palmer''s car pulling


    up, and Palmer emerging with an aura of fury, sent a shiver down Megrez''s spine.


    Was Vocalist here seeking retribution against their boss? Or had he finally figured out their boss


    was a swindler?


    Determined to be a loyal henchman, Megrez stammered, "Vocalist… Mr. Pock! Boss isn''t… isn''t


    here…"


    Palmer''s gaze swept past Megrez, focusing intently on the interior of the shop.


    There, in the sunlight, sat a wicker chair gently rocking. A delicate hand stroked a cat nestled in the


    lap of ady who turned her head slightly, yawning, her eyes misting over with drowsiness.


    "Palmer? What brings you here?"


    Palmer stood still, ensuring the scene before him was without ws before approaching. He knelt on


    one knee before the wicker chair, and the cat, sensing the scent of blood, leapt away.


    "Are you alright?"


    "Me? I''ve been here soaking up the sun. What could possibly happen?"


    Palmer exhaled a sigh of relief, joy flooding his heart at her safety. He held Noe’s hand to his


    forehead.


    "I was worried that…"


    Noe looked at him, surprised to see such vulnerability in someone usually soposed and


    decisive.


    She softened her voice, realizing the cause of his disquiet. "The men who came here have been


    dealt with."


    Palmer nodded affectionately. "I apologize. It was Pock family business."


    "It''s not your fault, and you don''t need to apologize," Noe reassured him, adding, "Several Pock


    family members have been treading on Pris Star''s territory. I would have had to deal with them


    sooner orter."


    Thus, none of this was Palmer''s doing.


    Understanding her implication, Palmer wasn''t fully cated. Those men coulde back for her!


    Megrez, witnessing the tender scene, patted his chest in relief.


    Vocalist wasn''t here for vengeance, and it seemed their boss hadn''t been caught with another man


    after all.


    Dutifully, Megrez brought over a chair for Palmer, cing it beside Noe''s wicker chair. "Mr.


    Pock, please sit. Two groups, thirty-five men in total, all taken care of. The mastermind still needs


    to be handled."


    Palmer settled next to Noe, his voice cold with intent. "Their lives, I''ll collect personally."


    Megrez grinned from ear to ear. "That''s the spirit. Our boss has never been one to be trifled with."


    "I get it!"


    Not many dared toe after their boss, treating her like some helpless canary ripe for the taking.


    Megrez was practically buzzing with excitement!


    Even if their boss was a canary, she was the kind that could snap a crocodile''s neck with one bite—


    a deadly canary with venomous fangs.


    Noe handed Palmer a handkerchief, and after a moment''s hesitation, she tenderly wiped his face


    herself.


    "You''ve got blood on your face," she murmured softly. "It looks like spatter. Where''s it from?"


    "Thigh, I think. Can’t remember. Should''ve aimed straight for the heart."


    Noe couldn''t help but smile slightly, hearing the frustration in Palmer''s voice. "There''s always next


    time for target practice."


    "Okay, I''ll listen to you."


    The scene was oddly touching and harmonious.


    Malvina, standing to the side, pretended she hadn''t seen anything.


    Why did she suddenly feel like a third wheel? It was too much—like she''d swallowed a whole bag of


    sour grapes!


    ...


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    Larson, waiting in front of the screen for some good news, leapt up from his chair!


    "What did you say? All our guys are gone? Could Palmer have anticipated this? Impossible! And


    Palmer injured Eamon? How dare he!"