Lorenzo immediately got up and said, “I’ll leave you to it then.”
As he was turning to leave, he noticed Hannah and her group hadn’t budged. Hannah, in particular, seemed unbothered, casually playing with her phone on the couch.
“We’re here to resolve an issue. We’re not leaving until it’s settled,”
Winston said to Jeffry in a cold voice.
Jeffry was in a foul mood and short-tempered. He snatched a gun from his companion, strode over, and pressed it to Winston’s forehead, growling, “You’re fucking asking for trouble…”
He couldn’t finish his sentence before a sharp pain shot through his wrist. Instinctively, his hold on the gun weakened.
As he regained his composure, he found himself staring down the barrel of the gun!
Hannah, gun in hand, asked with a smile, “You like fighting?”
Her words were calm yet carried an unmistakable threat.
“Interestingly enough, I like it as well.”
Jeffry was frightened by Hannah’s expression. “Miss Moore, let’s talk this out. Please, calm down! Don’t do anything hasty!”
He had underestimated Hannah, thinking she was just an insignificant daughter reclaimed by the Compton family.
Yet, he hadn’t anticipated her formidable nature!
“You weren’t so wise a moment ago, were you?” Hannah surveyed the room and said, “But since you’re open to discussion, I’ll offer you a choice. How would you prefer to die?”
With that, Hannah pointed the gun’s muzzle at Jeffry’s head, appearing ready to fire at any moment!
Just as they stood face to face, someone else entered the room.
“Your men told me you were talking business. Is it popular to point guns at each other when negotiating now?”
Bryson’s slightly magnetic voice came from the side.
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Hannah turned to him. He was dressed in a black windbreaker, his angular face sporting an inscrutable smile.
“Looks like I’ve walked in at a rather inconvenient moment for your business dealings.” Bryson approached Hannah. Noticing the perspiration on Jeffry’s forehead, he quirked an eyebrow and inquired, “Is there something wrong? You have a problem?”
Jeffry looked at Bryson and asked for help. “Mr. Mitchell, Miss Moore is causing trouble. Could you intervene?”
Bryson’s mouth curved into a slight smile as he glanced at Hannah and raised his brows, saying, “Perhaps Miss Moore might do me the favor?”
Aware of Bryson’s intentions, Hannah gazed at him with a spark of curiosity and asked, “Oh? What would you like me to help with?”
“It’s quite simple.” Bryson, with a grin, turned to Jeffry and said, “You were about to discuss business with me, right?”