Man With Super Medical Skill (Matthew)
Chapter 3237 Garrett's Escape

In a car parked outside the hotel, Garrett sat quietly, holding a radio in his hand. The voices of the financial magnates echoed from the radio, each word clearly transmitted. Garrett's face showed a wry smile. These fools still haven't realized they've been played. The failure to secure loans from the banks was a clear sign that someone powerful had intervened, and in all of Montiria, only one person had that kind of power-his younger brother, the current King of Montiria, Gadel.

As these thoughts crossed Garrett's mind, a chill ran down his spine. Without informing the financial magnates, he discreetly changed into a staff member's uniform and quietly slipped out of the hotel through the back door along with the other employees. Before leaving, Garrett even arranged the bed to look as if someone was still sleeping in it.

"Your Highness, what do we do now?" asked the shifty-eyed driver. He had been the very man who previously leaked the news about the devaluation of the Montirian Ducat to the pawnbroker. Being a former retainer of Garrett's, he had acted without hesitation upon Garrett's orders.

"Give me your jacket," Garrett said, his eyes fixed on the man's black leather jacket.

"Oh, sure." The man quickly handed over his branded leather jacket to Garrett, who then carefully felt around the jacket, causing the shifty-eyed man's heart to skip a beat. His Highness can't possibly have a thing for my jacket, can he?

"Found it," Garrett muttered as he located a tiny hard spot hidden in the jacket's hem-something only noticeable if one meticulously felt for it.

With a slight tug, he pulled out a tiny black sphere with a small chip inside, likely a device for recording conversations.

Seeing Garrett discover this unknown device in his jacket, the shifty-eyed man instinctively wanted to explain that it wasn't his doing. But before he could speak, Garrett covered his mouth, calmly saying, "To the bank. I need to meet with the bank managers." Then, Garrett wrapped the jacket around the tracking device and tossed it out the window.

"Quick, drive to the docks outside Everton. I've already arranged for a team to pick us up," Garrett ordered, his face serious. The driver didn't dare delay any further, slamming the accelerator to the floor, sending the car shooting forward like an arrow from a bow.

"Who the hell drives like that? You trying to get yourself killed?!"

"Are you in a rush to die or something, speeding like that?"

"My white dress! It's brand new! Stop right there!"

Amidst the angry shouts of pedestrians, the car became a black blur, disappearing from their sight.

Garrett's sense of urgency only grew as he checked his pocket watch and repeatedly urged the driver, "Forget the traffic lights. Just run them. Get to the dock outside the city as fast as possible."

Under Garrett's increasingly frantic orders, the car's speed climbed to 100 miles per hour, even in the city streets.

From the moment we set foot in Montiria, Gader must have had his eye on us, Garrett thought, his mind racing. Even when we went to pay our respects that day, my scarf and pox marks probably looked like nothing more than a clown's act to him. But Gadel didn't strike immediately. That's not like him.

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Having been the mastermind behind the previous plane crash, Garrett knew Gadel would never forgive him for that, and he believed the only reason Gadel had held back was because he had a greater plan in mind. As anxiety gnawed at fim, Garrett's mind raced, piecing together the answers one by one.