Crash-landed On An Island With Nine Beauties novel Chapter 165

"Denzel... Denzel!! How dare you do this to us?"

"How dare you do this to your father?"

Denzel slammed the door in the face of the men who were trying to fight their way out. The lad didn't for once hesitate before carrying out the task.

As soon as he slammed the door, he walked away.

The men kept complaining, grumbling amongst themselves as though they were some kids.

After a little time, there was silence. The peace and quiet was quite defeaning. They could do nothing but look from person to the other.

There were stools with leathered tops scattered around the large spacesof the detention Hall.

"Who could imagine that I would ever be in the detention hall?! A whole me... the terror of my community."

A white haired man grunted, kicking at one of the stools. None of the men paid attention to him. It was as though he was doing the most and pretending as though he was the only one going through the mess.

One after the other, the men walked towards the stools, one man claiming a stool.

The white haired man was the only one left. And funny enough, he had no choice but to go pick up the stool which he had kicked away.

After they had all settle down, sitting in a circle, Mr Marcot heaved a sigh. That sigh acted as a nudge for the rest of the men.

"How dare he? How dare that little shit!!!"

One of them finally said. He was yelling on top of his voice, gritting his teeth at the same time; multitasking.

"He wss just following an order. We can't keep blaming him."

Another man made the fellow see sense.

"Who's talking about that robot who doesn't have a mind of his own? I was talking about that crazy little shit. So what if he is the new owner of the group... how dare he treat us as though we are some underlings. Does he want to die?"

"Can you say that to his face? Weren't you cowering like a cornered animal when he throttled James? Why didn't you do a thing? All talk no action."

"You fool, don't even start with me. Do you think I don't know what the hell you've been up to?"

"What's he talking about?"

"How about you ask him and stop bathing me with your saliva."

"You crazy little piece of trash..."

The white haired man wanted to lunge at the other man.

"What were you all saying about being underlings? Are you acting any different?"

Mr Marcot came on and the white haired had his hand hanging in air. He obviously couldn't keep up the rage. He reluctantly dropped back on the stool.

"Shit... this stool is too hard."

He grunted. Mr Marcot sighed again. But this time, he wouldn't give them the chance to take away the stance which he was about to build upon.

"He's too young. Though he is rich and we don't actually know the source of his wealth too. He might be the son of an underground rich man... but he is naive."

As soon as Marcot paused, some of the men changed their positions. It was obvious that they were ready and willing to get the full gist. That was one of the reasons they respected Vidal. He always had the answers they weren't looking for.

"Hearing that tipped him off. He got really mad. Why? He is new to this world. He let his emotions, the enemy of progress and wealth, cloud his judgement."

Marcot took another sigh. It was as though he had more than enough to spare.

"I'm sure that soon enough, he would meet someone who would speak sense into him... Someone who's quite experienced in this world. Who knows, Someone might be doing that at the moment. He would have no choice but to come back to us at the end of the day. Because he wouldn't be able to navigate this cruel world with that fragile mind."

The men nodded to Marcot's argument. Not one of them didn't seem to agree. Only the white haired man seemed to have a problem. His face was ill trained, they couldn't hold back the content of his heart so skillfully. But fortunately, none of his mates caught up on the trick.

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"Welcome, Boss..."

Elisa shut the door behind him before turning to join him. He settled in the chair.