Chapter 5 The Helpers Come

I could see Zach's face peeking out from behind his phone, and he was shamelessly grinning at me.

"Your father?" Lina cackled with even more gusto. "Your father is nothing to us! I'm still going to make you do the dishes even if he goes down on his knees and begs me not to!"

Lina's strength was more terrifying than I thought. My thumb was already bright red with ink, and it was less than an inch away from that humiliating agreement.

Hopelessness drowned me along with my tears. I closed my eyes and bit my lip until the skin broke and I tasted metal in my mouth.

Right before my thumb would touch the surface of that paper, a loud, thunderous explosion tore through the room.

The thick, bulletproof door was smashed to pieces from a single kick, and the wooden shards blasted through the room like bullets.

Before the guards who were pinning me down knew what was going on, the wooden shards had already hit them, causing them to barrel across the air, screaming.

Lina's hand froze in her shock, and the ink pad fell against the ground with a clatter. Zach's phone plopped onto the carpet, its screen turning dim.

Dead silence descended upon the room. Everyone was staring at the entrance in shock. When the cloud of dust eventually settled, the sight that met us made Zach and his mother gasp.

That was because they were greeted with the sight of hundreds of top-tier bodyguards, clad in black suits and white gloves, standing outside.

The bodyguards were marching around securing a tight perimeter around the restaurant, so much so that not even a fly could leave the establishment without getting a swat to the head.

This was a lot more terrifying than any turf war shown in movies. After a while, the men parted like the Red Sea, leaving a wide path for someone to saunter through.

The first one who came storming down the path was a real estate tycoon in his 60s. He was my nephew, Jason Gray. His walking stick, made out of pure gold, thudded loudly against the ground, and the dragon's head adorning it glinted under the lights.

He radiated the undeniable air of an experienced leader.

Following him was a well-respected man in the medical field, Jonathan Gray. He was in his 50s, and he, too, was my nephew. He had a silver first-aid kit in his hands. Still, his usually firm and steady, were now shaking with rage, and his eyes radiated murder.

The final man to show up was my father, Gregory Gray. He was in a custom-made wheelchair and was being slowly pushed into the room by a couple of his closest bodyguards. He was playing with two priceless trinkets, making them clang crisply.

His hair was as white as snow, and his wrinkles definitely betrayed his age. Nevertheless, his eyes were still bright and piercing. There wasn't a trace of senility in them. These men commanded the respect of Imperia's elite circle, and they had all come here for my sake.

Now that they were finally here, I felt as though a dam had been broken. All the injustice I'd been feeling broke through as I sobbed, "Dad, Jason, Jonathan…" I cried as though I were an abandoned kitten as my dislocated left arm hung limply by my side.

The edges of Jason's eyes went red as he slammed his stick against the ground. "It's alright, great-aunt! I'm here!"

Jonathan tossed his first-aid kit away and skidded over to me on his knees. He was crying from heartbreak. "What happened to your arm? Who did this to you?"

My father didn't leave his wheelchair, but his eyes had found the agreement on the ground. His gaze flitted over the words, the broken ink pad, and finally, the pale Zach and Lina. He stopped playing with his trinkets, and the air around us seemed to get colder.

My father didn't yell when he finally spoke. Nonetheless, it was filled with undeniable pressure as he demanded, "Who dares make my daughter do the dishes?"