Daddy Is Coming, and No One Will Survive

Chapter 11

“Great. That little bastard should feel honored—her heart will be transplanted into Master Omar’s daughter,” someone nearby sneered.

At those words, Omar’s spirits lifted. His daughter had been waiting nearly two months for this surgery. The Maldonado family had exhausted every option, and at last, there was progress.

As for Laurel’s life, Omar couldn’t care less. To him, people were simply born into different stations. Allowing this low-life’s heart to save his daughter was, in his view, already a mercy.

"Congratulations, Master Omar!" two rich young men exclaimed simultaneously.

"Haha, thank you!" Omar laughed heartily. He raised his glass and drank it all in one go.

Boom! At that moment, a gust of wind shattered the private room into splinters, sending wood fragments flying.

"Ah..." The girls screamed in unison.

"Damn, who dares cause trouble here? Are they tired of living?" The tall guy was startled. He got up and walked towards Junior and Timothy. "Where did you losers come from? Don't you know..."

Bang! Timothy kicked out, and that guy flew backward as if hit by a car. He crashed into a wall pillar and fell heavily to the ground. Then he spat out a mouthful of blood before passing out.

"Ah..." The girls screamed again.

"Omar stays. Everyone else, get out!" Timothy commanded in a deep voice.

Without any hesitation, every one ran towards the door. Having seen the tall rich guy's fate, they didn't dare utter another word.

"Who are you people?" Omar asked, regaining his composure after a brief shock.

This was his Maldonado family's territory. He didn't believe anyone would dare harm him here! Plus, he was sure that with such a commotion, his men would arrive quickly. In less than three minutes, these two brats would learn the consequences of challenging Omar!

Slap! Before he could finish his sentence, Junior slapped him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

He rolled over several times before stopping, blood and two front teeth spilling out.

"You dare hit me!? I swear I'll make you wish you were dead today..." Omar roared, struggling to get up.

Whoosh! Before he could finish, Junior's figure flickered and appeared right in front of him.

Crack! Crack! Junior stomped on Omar's right ankle, shattering it instantly with several crisp sounds.

"Ah..." Omar let out a hysterical scream, loud enough to be heard throughout the club.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Just then, a series of urgent footsteps echoed in the hallway. Seven or eight men in black stormed in, each holding a Desert Eagle.

"Fuck! How dare you harm Master Omar!" the leading man shouted.

"Why the hell are you still talking? Shoot them, kill them now!" Omar roared after catching his breath.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The men in black snapped out of their shock and pulled the triggers simultaneously. Bullets rained toward Junior and Timothy.

Ding! Ding! Ding! To their horror, the bullets fell to the ground a meter away from the two men, as if they had hit an invisible wall.

"How...how is this possible?" The men in black froze, their faces pale with fear. 'Stopping bullets? What kind of sorcery is this?'

Boom! Boom! Boom! Junior waved his hand, sending a gust of wind that blew all eight men backwards. They hit the ground, twitched a few times, and then lay still.

Omar's jaw dropped, his face turning ashen. His entire body trembled uncontrollably. He finally realized the level of power he had provoked!

"Who...who are you? What do you want?" He swallowed hard and asked, his voice shaking.

"Call your father, Nicolas Maldonado, now!" Junior ordered coldly.

"What...what do you want with my father?" Omar asked, slightly dazed.

Crack! Before he could finish, Junior grabbed his left wrist and twisted it hard. The sound of bones breaking was followed by his arm hanging limply at his side like a noodle.

"Ah..." Omar screamed again and passed out.

Splash! Junior grabbed a glass of red wine from the coffee table and threw it in Omar's face, bringing him back to consciousness.

"If you say one more word, you'll join your men in hell," Junior said, with his murderous aura enveloping Omar.

"Don't...don't kill me. I'll call...I'll call now..." Omar stammered, pulling out his phone with a trembling hand.

The phone rang twice before Nicolas picked up. "What is it? I just got to the hospital and was about to get busy. Speak quickly!"

"Dad, save me. Someone's trying to kill me." Omar cried into the phone.

"What!? What's happening? Who did this?" Nicolas asked in an angry voice.

"Give me the phone!" Junior snatched the phone from Omar and spoke slowly and clearly. "You have three hours to bring Laurel back unharmed to your Maldonado Manor. I will come to get her then. If I don't see her in three hours, your son and everyone in your villa will die."

"Who are you?" Nicolas asked, his voice trembling slightly. "You dare threaten me? You must..."

Crack! Junior stomped on Omar's knee, the sound of bones shattering echoing in the room.

"Ah..." Omar's scream filled the hallway again, chilling everyone who heard it.

"Bastard!" Nicolas roared, recognizing his son's voice.

"Remember, you have three hours. If I don't see Laurel, come collect your son's corpse!" Junior said coldly.

Nicolas took a deep breath, gritting his teeth. "Three hours. I'll be at the Maldonado Manor waiting for you!"