Chapter 125

Juan's heart pounded. This was no laughing matter. Tony had already hung up, smug in his victory. "Please don't kill me! I'll do anything. Just let me live!" Juan begged, kneeling as Andrew approached with a chilling smile.

Meanwhile, at East Side headquarters, Tony sat relaxed in his leather armchair, a casual smile playing on his lips. "I'm not releasing him," he declared. "That kid beat up Juan, my only son. Anyone who touches him is spitting in my face, and that means death."

Lauren, Cedric, and Dylan sat grim-faced. "Mr. Madden Senior, this whole mess started because Juan provoked Andrew," Lauren argued angrily. "Isn't it excessive to kill someone over that? You can't abuse your position to take lives as you please."

"Ms. Rhodes, I don't appreciate that tone," Tony drawled, sipping his tea. "Even if Juan started it, so what? That kid's a nobody. Are you suggesting he's on the same level as my son?"

Cedric glared, his voice heavy with warning. "You're pushing your luck. Don't you fear the consequences?"

Tony scoffed. "In Jayrodale, I am the consequences. Anyone who crosses East Side is finished."

Cedric clenched his fists but remained silent, knowing that pushing Tony further would endanger Andrew. Only Dylan remained composed. "Tony, I warned you not to touch Mr. Lloyd. Aren't you worried you've picked the wrong fight?"

Tony sneered. "You're a coward, Dylan, but I'm not. I know the kid has skills—I heard he put Bobby in a coma. But unlike you, I'm no pushover."

Dylan continued, "Tony, I'm aware you've been expanding East Side's influence. But your arrogance blinds you. If you harm Mr. Lloyd, it won't end with you. East Side will bleed for it."

Tony slammed his teacup onto the table. "Oh, is that so? Then let's see how you plan to make East Side bleed!"

Dylan stood firm. "We at South City may not be able to topple East Side. But the people behind Mr. Lloyd—those are the ones you don't want to cross."

Tony leaned back. "What people? That kid's just some small-time doctor. What kind of backing could he possibly have? Name one person. I'll call it your win if it even makes me bat an eye."

Dylan's jaw tightened, ready to name the individual. Before he could speak, however, chaotic footsteps and panicked shouts erupted outside. The door burst open, and a body was carried in—Rocco, lifeless, his face serene in death. Behind him stumbled Juan, his face a mask of bruises and blood, his body trembling with terror.

Tony shot up from his chair, furious. "Who did this?"