Man With Super Medical Skill (Matthew)
Chapter 3302 The Watson Family Patriarch's Contemplation

Smash!

"You idiots! Is this how you protect my son?"

Inside a luxurious villa, Calbhach Watson, the Watson Family patriarch, the bald man from the party, furiously threw a vase onto the floor, shattering it into pieces. His eyes, blazing with anger, glared at the dozen or so bodyguards standing before him.

"I pay each of you hundreds of thousands every year, and you stand here telling me the enemy was strong?"

The bodyguards remained silent, knowing full well that keeping quiet might only earn them a scolding or, at worst, a beating. But if they dared speak up, they might end up as shark food by nightfall.

Calbhach's anger burned hotter as he glanced at his son, still unconscious on the floor, reeking of urine. "Who in all of Dewsbury would dare lay a hand on a member of the Watson Family?" He barked, "Who attacked my son?"

One of the bodyguards stepped forward and said, "The attacker was incredibly arrogant, sir. He even made sure we came back to tell you this: 'The Watson patriarch is nothing. His son is a useless drunk, and I'll beat him up every time I see him.' And then... he said... he said..."

Seeing the man hesitate, Calbhach thundered again. "What else did he say?"

"He also said that your son isn't... isn't really yours, but rather your wife's child with another man..."

The moment the words left his mouth, all the bodyguards dropped to their knees in unison, cold sweat breaking out on their backs. They silently cursed the one who spoke up. It was one thing to embellish and insult, but to reveal such a deep, private matter-what was he thinking?

Calbhach's face turned a sickly mix of red and green, his chest heaving with barely contained fury. Without a word, he reached behind the bookshelf, pulled out a handgun, and spoke in a chilling tone, "What's the name of that b*stard, and where can I replace him?"

By now, Calbhach's anger had reached its peak. His only thought was murder. He was going to hunt down this wretched fool and make him regret ever being born.

"Sir, he said his name was... um... something like... Mitchell Lawson."

Calbhach's furious expression suddenly stilled, and his breathing steadied.

he croth surprising calmness

he crouched down beside the

bodyguard,

his voice unnervingly

gentle. "Are you sure he said

'Mitchell Lawson?' Or was it...

Matthew Larson?"

The bodyguard thought hard, recalling the man's voice, and nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir, he said his name was Matthew Larson." Smack!

Calbhach slapped the bodyguard across the face.

"You idiot! You almost got me killed! How could you let my son provoke Matthew Larson, of all people?" Calbhach raged at the bodyguard, his anger loud but his tone betraying a hint of fear.

Inside, Calbhach's fear far outweighed his fury. The terrible things he'd done over the years were enough to warrant his death ten times over. If Matthew set his sights on him because of this, the mere thought sent chills down his spine.

Calbhach slowly placed the handgun

back into the hidden compartment

behind the bookshelf. His eyes swept over the trembling bodyguards. "From now on, you will watch my son like hawks. If he

dares

to go out and stir up any more trouble, I give you full permission to use whatever force necessary to stop him."

The bodyguards were stunned. This was completely out of character for their patriarch, who usually demanded strict adherence to family rules. Who was this Matthew Larson, and how could he command such fear that even Calbhach

Watson, known for his temper, was willing to suppress his rage?

Calbhach sat down in the living room, his eyes deep in thought. After a moment, he took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, landing on a long-forgotten number. The name beside it read: Clara Birol.