Chapter 882

Michael pointed at his crotch, a smug, taunting grin on his face as he stared Andrew down. He wanted to humiliate him beyond repair, to break him completely and turn him into nothing but a disgrace.

The room fell into complete silence.

Everyone knew that with Kenny backing him up and the Driscoll family as his trump card, Michael had all the power here. Andrew had no room to resist.

Tiana smirked, her eyes full of mockery. She had warned Andrew not to throw himself into the fire, but he refused to listen, too reckless and arrogant for his own good.

Now, the Driscoll family’s shadow loomed over him, ready to strike at any moment. Andrew had no choice—if he dared to defy them, he and Marvin would be utterly destroyed.

Under the weight of countless stares—some sympathetic, some amused, and some outright gloating—Andrew suddenly moved, and what he did next stunned everyone.

Without any hesitation, he raised his hand and slapped Michael across the face.

A crisp smack echoed through the room as Michael’s head snapped to the side. The sheer force of the blow sent him flying into the long conference table, his forehead slamming against the edge with a sickening thud.

Blood gushed down his face. His teeth shattered, his lips torn apart from the impact.

“You bastard! I’m going to fucking kill you!” Michael’s furious, agonized screams filled the air as he fumbled for his phone, his first instinct to call Kenny.

The others were frozen in shock, and their minds went blank. They all thought Andrew had a death wish for laying his hands on Michael.

Meanwhile, Andrew remained unfazed, his expression as cold as ice. Without a word, he lifted his foot and stomped hard, and a sickening crack rang out.

Michael’s scream was deafening, raw with agony. He could not believe that Andrew actually dared to injure him. Not only had he struck him, but he had crippled him.

“You’re dead, Andrew! I swear I’ll kill you! I’ll kill your whole family!” Michael screeched, his voice hoarse from the pain.

He coughed up blood, his face twisted in a grotesque mix of fury and suffering.

“My hand! My fucking hand! The Driscoll family—my father—will tear you apart!”

Andrew did not even acknowledge his threats. Instead, he stomped down again—once, then twice.

With another sharp crack, Michael’s other wrist shattered. Then, for good measure, Andrew drove his foot into Michael’s groin—the same spot he had already injured earlier.

Michael’s body spasmed violently before going limp. His screams died in his throat, unable to escape. His chest heaved, his eyes bulging as if he were on the verge of passing out.

A terrifying chill spread through the room, and everyone stood paralyzed, staring at Andrew like he was a monster.

“Mr. Lloyd, you’ve gone too far! You’re pushing Michael to his grave!”

“Are you just throwing everything away? Do you think the Driscoll family and Kenny will let you walk away from this?”

“Andrew, you’ve really lost it! You’ve doomed yourself!”

Cries of disbelief and outrage filled the air.

Andrew’s actions had shaken them all to their core. With this, there was no turning back—he had pushed himself straight into the abyss.

However, something even more unbelievable happened.

Andrew ignored all of them and crouched down beside Michael. Then, he slapped him across the face again, hard enough to send his already broken nose askew.

Only then did he finally speak, his voice slow and deliberate, “Mr. Rhodes, weren’t you just telling me to crawl under your legs? Weren’t you demanding that I get down on my knees? Come on, get up. Keep talking tough. Show me how much of a big shot you are.”

He reached over, picked up Michael’s phone, and dangled it in front of him.

“You wanted to call your daddy, right? Wanted to snitch to the Driscoll family? Go ahead. Say the number—I’ll dial it for you. Call Joe over. Tell him to come deal with me."

Michael was no longer screaming. His body twitched feebly, barely holding on to consciousness. Blood dribbled from his mouth, and his swollen, disfigured face contorted in silent agony.

Around them, everyone—including Lauren—stared at Andrew like he was the devil himself.