The Son-In-Law Shot to Fame (Donald and Jennifer) novel Chapter 1100

Donald looked at Wilbur with a puzzled expression and couldn't help but doubt whether the latter was really on a call with someone.

Didn't Billy already send my photo to those lower-ranking leaders back then, lest some ignorant ones crossed me?

Regardless of who this so-called top gun of Pollerton really is, this person still dares to be so arrogant after knowing my identity?

Donald beckoned to Wilbur with his hand. “Come, give me your phone. I'll talk to him.”

The latter looked at the former as if he was looking at an idiot. “Who do you think you are? How could you deserve to talk to Mr. Castro?”

While Wilbur threw his weight around here, on the other end of the call, Newton had been rendered speechless.

“Mr. Castro?” Hudson Barker, Newton's subordinate, was carrying golf clubs while observing his boss, who was trembling all over while holding the phone.

Did Mr. Castro have a history of epilepsy before?

No, right?

Just as he was about to walk forward and see what was going on with Newton, Newton hung up the call while shaking from head to toe.

Beneath his gold-rimmed glasses, Newton's gaze could hardly conceal his murderous intent.

Hudson was taken aback by this gaze. He had never seen Newton with such an imposing aura before.

“Mr. Castro... Are we still playing golf?”

“Yes, why not? Just not here.” Newton took off his cap and tossed it at Hudson. “Let's go to Dragon Fide Villa.”

Newton was already filled with murderous intent, but Wilbur had yet to realize the gravity of the situation.

Wilbur gestured to Nolan, who immediately pulled out a chair from the side, allowing Wilbur to sit down with an air of nonchalance.

“What now, kid? You know what I can do now, yeah?”

Donald dug his ear, speaking apathetically. “What can you do? You don't even dare to let me take the phone. How am I supposed to know if your words are true or false?”

He added, “Your ten minutes are almost up. So, have you managed to dig up any dirt on me?”

Upon hearing Donald's question, Wilbur was briefly struck dumb.

A few of them were even draped in white bath towels, making it obvious that they had hurried over from a bathhouse of sorts.

Wilbur was wholly dumbfounded.

What the hell? Since when did my reputation become so significant?

Over a dozen bigwigs stormed in from outside, brimming with murderous intent.

Jackdaw, being the most temperamental, was leading the way.

Wilbur greeted the man with a warm smile, “Mr. Jackdaw, what brings you—”

Before Wilbur could finish his words, Jackdaw fiercely slapped the former across the face.

“F*cking hell! Even if you want to die, can you not drag me into it? How dare you mess with someone as influential as Mr. Campbell? You must be tired of living!”

Jackdaw grabbed Wilbur's collar and was ready to slap the man again when Taurus, who was closely behind, stepped forward.

“Jackdaw, that's enough. There are so many of us waiting behind you. You've had your turn.”