The Double or more Life of the Fake Heiress (Mirabella)

As the middle-aged man slammed his hand on the table, a dozen sleek black guns clicked in unison, all aimed at Grady and the two managers in the room, ready to fire at any moment.

Grady stayed cool as a cucumber. He raised his hands and leisurely clapped, nodding. "So, evidence of illegal dealings, huh?"

The middle-aged man's eyes narrowed, clearly taken aback that Grady was still playing it calm. Laughing lightly, he said, "Won't shed a tear until you see the coffin, huh? You want evidence? Fine, come with us, and you'll see."

"Who do you think you are?" Atlas had enough of this guy's bluster. Threatening Grady right to his face? Not on his watch.

The middle-aged man's face darkened as he turned his gaze to Atlas. No one had ever dared to speak to him like that. With a quick glance, he signaled his men.

But before his men could even react, Atlas had already moved. In the blink of an eye, the middle-aged man was yanked from his chair, Atlas's hand gripping his throat. It took less than five seconds.

A cold smile played at the corners of Atlas's lips, his eyes flashing with a hint of menace. "What makes you think you have the right to sit at the head of the table?"

The man's eyes widened in terror, his throat constricted, unable to make a sound. Seeing their boss suddenly held hostage, the dozen gunmen tensed, ready to aim at Atlas. But the other two managers sprang into action.noveldrama

Anyone holding a managerial position in the Davis family was skilled and capable. Trying to outgun them was a joke. Each of them had survived through gunfire and bullets. Fear? Not in their vocabulary.

In less than a minute, the dozen armed men were disarmed, utterly helpless.

The middle-aged man's face turned pale, his previous arrogance completely gone.

Atlas glanced disdainfully at the

men writhing on the ground in pain. If it weren't for Grady's principles of "peace and harmony," these guys would have been riddled with bullets.

"Losers," Atlas spat.

At that moment, the phone in the middle-aged man's pocket began to ring. The sound wasn't loud, but in the tense room, it added an eerie thrill.

The man shivered, too scared to take out his phone, letting it ring endlessly.

Grady brushed off some imaginary dust from his jacket, then glanced at Atlas and the two managers. "I've said it before; we're in a civilized and harmonious society now. We should reason with people."

The middle-aged man being choked and his men with dislocated arms were speechless: "..."

Civilized and harmonious, my foot!

Atlas coughed, loosening his grip while simultaneously kicking the middle-aged man's shin. The man crumpled to the floor, conveniently kneeling right in front of Grady.

"My bad. Next time, I'll definitely reason with people properly," Atlas said.

The middle-aged man could only groan.

His phone kept ringing, and given its special ringtone, he knew exactly who was calling. Despite kneeling on the floor, he fumbled for his phone and pressed the answer button.

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