The Mightiest Tycoon

3. Hello, Brother-in-law

Richards was angry for a moment, but he quickly calmed down. From the day he decided to retire, he secretly warned himself: Richards, when you lose the halo of the American Army Ghost Commander, you will no longer be the revered, and  you must keep a low profile.

Richards leaned against the door, casually lit a cigarette, and before the man could speak again, he turned and called out to the master bedroom, "Hannah, you have a visitor!"

Already feeling lost, Hannah felt a tingling sensation in her feet, and the intense physical discomfort made her feel cold all over. She pushed open the door and came out. Her beautiful eyes merely glanced at the man before turning to Richards: "Is there something you need, Harold?"

"You know him?" Richards raised the hand holding the cigarette and pointed at the man.

"Yes," Hannah said calmly. "He's my father's godson."

"Brother-in-law?" Upon hearing this, Richards unconsciously straightened up while leaning against the door, a smile that was both sincere and hypocritical on his face. After a pause, Richards quickly invited Harold into the house: "Why didn't you say so sooner? Come on in and sit down."

Harold stood motionless at the door, his expression cold.

"Come on in." Seeing this, Richards felt no embarrassment and suddenly slapped Hannah's plump buttocks. "Hannah, aren't you going to make tea for my brother-in-law? I have some fine Jasmin tea in the shelf."

Hannah's expression froze, as if struck by lightning.

Harold was also stunned. He just said that if Richards dares to lay a finger on Hannah, he was going to kill him. Richards's move was clearly a challenge. A cold glint flashed in his eyes, but he did not move. He was waiting for Hannah's words.

Richards's actions did indeed enrage him. But Harold knew very well that Hannah must be even angrier. As soon as she spoke, he would take action and immediately cripple Richards.

"Don't ever touch me in front of others again." After a long wait, Hannah simply said expressionlessly. After saying that, she turned and walked into the master bedroom.

This scene made Harold frown, and he even suspected that Hannah had been kidnapped by Richards. The eldest daughter of her family, who usually finds it disgusting to even talk to men, didn't retaliate at all after being spanked. What kind of drug did this ordinary-looking man give her?

"Harold." After watching Hannah enter the house, Richards put on the airs of a son-in-law of the Han family and said arrogantly, "Knowing Hannah as I do, she definitely won't prepare any tea for you. So you better go back home and not to delay our wedding night."

After Hannah left, Harold stopped hiding things. He waved his hand, gesturing for Richards to come to the corridor outside the door.

"Did you see that?" Harold pointed to the dozens of black Mercedes-Benz cars downstairs, and about a hundred muscular men in suits standing beside the cars, an aura of menacing men sweeping across the entire building.

"Are you kidding me?" Richards peeked out and glanced around. Was he planning a war? He felt like he was back in his old workplace.

"One word from me, and they'll be scrambling to write their names on your body." Harold said coldly, lighting a cigarette. "Don't push your luck—"

The shrill ringtone of the cell phone rang, cutting Harold off mid-speech.

Richards took the phone out of his pocket, hung up, and then gestured with his chin, saying, "You continue."

Harold frowned and said coldly, "I know you have connections with the Han family, but you and Hannah are impossible—"

Before he could finish speaking, Richards's phone rang again.

Harold was somewhat annoyed after being interrupted twice by the phone ringing. But he said everything he needed to say.

Richards hung up the phone again and calmly asked, "Do you know we've already registered our marriage?"

"After tonight, no one will know," Harold said confidently.

Richards stubbed out his cigarette and fell into deep thought. It seemed that Hannah wasn't the only one in the Han family who wanted to break off the engagement; her father did too.

“Richards, I advise you to be realistic. Whether it's the vast difference in your social status or family background, you're not destined to be together,” Harold said, using both soft and hard tactics. “A toad wanting to eat swan meat only exists in fairy tales; it doesn't exist in reality.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head,” Richards said, straightening his back with empathy. “Hannah and I have repeatedly emphasized that my ambitions are not in romantic relationships, but only in the future to spread my wings and roam the world. How can I be confined to a well? But she cried and shouted that she would not marry anyone but me, and she even tried to kill herself. I got married to her entirely out of humanitarianism." 

Upon hearing this, Harold's eyes flashed with a cold light. How come you've become a swan soaring through the sky? The apple of the eye of the Han family, now a toad at the bottom of a well?

Just as he was about to get angry, Richards's phone rang again.

"Are you not going to answer it?" Harold was furious, but he forced himself to suppress it: How could a cook for ten years have so many contacts? He wondered.

Richards cleared his throat and raised his voice as soon as the call connected: "What? All five thousand comrades from the eight elite strategists of Northern Confederate are coming to my house? And they're going to make a ruckus in the bridal chamber? Even the newly appointed young commander of Northern Confederate, Commander Longhorn, is coming in person?"

Richards glanced at Harold and said tactfully, "Isn't it a bit unnecessary to make such a fuss? Didn't you just receive your medals of honor in the capital, and didn't you attend the state banquet last night? You're so busy, there's really no need—oh? I am newly married, can't I not come? Hey! We're all family, how can I be so formal with you guys? What? You're already in the city? You're coming to my house in ten minutes? Sigh, if you really wanted to come, you should have given me a heads-up, I haven't prepared anything yet!"

Harold frowned as he listened from the side.

Will the eight elite divisions of Northern Confederate drink your wedding wine? Make a ruckus in your bridal chamber? Those are the most elite combat troops in America, and the direct troops of the late legendary commander Harrison Smiths.

Franklin Longhorn, the newly appointed young marshal of the Northern Confederate, was also a leader of high status. Why would a military commander of such high rank and power come to drink at the house of a cook like this guy?

This guy couldn't even brag properly, claiming to know people of high status. How could he expect to live a meaningful life? Was Hannah going to spend her life with a man like this? Let alone the big boss, even an outsider like him wouldn't agree!

"Harold, why don't you come another day?" After hanging up the phone, Richards lit another cigarette and said casually. "You heard it too, my old colleagues are coming to here, they'll be here in ten minutes. If they run into your underlings, there's bound to be some unnecessary misunderstanding."

"The misunderstanding will be cleared up with some explanation," Harold said coldly. "If your brothers don't arrive in ten minutes, my men will come up."

After saying that, he gestured downstairs. The burly men in black suits, upon receiving the order, became restless, their eyes gleaming with menacing light.

"Speaking of which, we're related by blood, so why be aggressive to me?" Richards said helplessly.

"If I were you, I'd pack my bags and get out of Birmingham right now, and never come back." Harold pressed on relentlessly, leaving no room for negotiation.

"I already said, Hannah forced me to marry her," Richards said, sounding somewhat aggrieved. "Is it wrong to lend a helping hand?"

Harold's heart skipped a beat, and he almost pushed Richards off the fifth floor.

Ten minutes passed in the blink of an eye.

Harold's gaze was fixed on the corner of the intersection. That was the only passage to this dilapidated building. If the five thousand elite troops of the eight great masters of Northern Confederate really came, wouldn't they further crush this broken road with their boots?

"Here they are?" Richards asked, a cigarette dangling from his lips and eyes narrowed.

Upon hearing this, Harold looked into the distance.