Chapter 261: Satisfying

Benjamin didn’t pass out—surprisingly, his health was good enough to handle the shock. Clutching his chest, he glared at Carter. “You’re insane! All Harper did was slap Zoey, and you cut off one of his fingers!”

“Benjamin, you’re wrong on two counts,” Carter replied calmly, wiping the cleaver with a towel. “First, I’m not stopping at one finger—I’m cutting off all five. Doing it one at a time is to ensure he fully feels the fear and pain. Second, he only lost a hand, while my wife endured a slap to the face.”

His words stunned everyone in the room. They could hardly believe their ears. Was he seriously implying that Harper’s slap was worse than losing fingers? Everyone assumed Carter had misspoken, but his unwavering expression and matter-of-fact tone suggested otherwise.

In his mind, there was no doubt: Zoey was the most precious person to him, someone he wouldn’t allow anyone to harm, not even slightly. He even went out of his way to send me away earlier, worried I might be frightened by his actions. Unlike Luke, who repeatedly let me suffer indignities, Carter made sure no offense against me went unanswered.

Carter’s demeanor was calm, but his actions were extreme and relentless. He wouldn’t let me be mistreated—he’d retaliate immediately and thoroughly, without hesitation. While he continued wiping blood off the knife, Harper lay there trembling in terror, his face ashen. The delay in the second strike left him pleading for mercy, trying to endure the searing pain.

“Mr. Wilcher,” Carter said, his voice steady, “do you feel pain? When you hit Zoey across the face, did it ever occur to you that she would feel pain too?”

Benjamin roared in anger, “It was just a slap! You’re cutting off his fingers—how is that comparable?”

“Oh? So you believe a slap doesn’t hurt?” Carter’s gaze shifted to Benjamin, and I instantly knew he was about to regret speaking up. Carter hadn’t planned to deal with him, but some people were simply begging for trouble.

“Damian,” Carter said, his tone casual, “why don’t you show him how much a slap can hurt?”

“Of course, Mr. Carter.”

I’d seen Damian in action before. With his muscular frame, his slaps packed a serious punch. I wasn’t sure Benjamin could withstand it. For years, Benjamin had relied on his seniority to get his way, but today, he’d met his match in Carter.

“What are you doing? Carter, you can’t…”

Slap!

Damian swung his arm in a wide arc, delivering a deafening slap that left me worrying Benjamin might disintegrate on the spot. Yet, watching it unfold was immensely satisfying. This was the same Benjamin who had tormented Philippa her entire life. Finally, he was getting what he deserved.

The slap left Benjamin with a nosebleed, blood dripping down his face.

“Dad!” Vere exclaimed, rushing to his father’s side.

Carter’s gaze shifted to Vere. “Would you like to feel it too?”

With just a single sentence, Vere shrank back immediately, too afraid to make another move. Not wanting to risk a slap or worse, Vere quickly resumed his role as the family coward.

Carter turned back to Benjamin, his voice cold but composed. “Well, Benjamin, do you understand now that a slap does hurt?”

Benjamin couldn’t bring himself to respond. The slap had nearly knocked the life out of him. If he dared resist further, Carter would likely kill him right there. It was clear now—when dealing with someone like Benjamin, only violence could teach him a lesson. After that slap, Benjamin fell silent, subdued like a scolded child in kindergarten.

At that moment, the sound of a door opening drew everyone’s attention. Bill stepped in, his face freezing at the chaotic scene before him. The room was a mess of blood and water. People were sprawled or kneeling on the floor, their faces swollen beyond recognition. Benjamin’s face was half-swollen, while Carter sat calmly in his wheelchair, holding a knife in his hand.

“What’s going on here?” Bill asked, utterly bewildered. The scene looked like something out of a nightmare. Vere and Rubie rushed to him like drowning people grasping for a lifeline.

“Bill, thank goodness you’re here! Harper’s hand—Carter cut off one of his fingers! And he hit Dad! Dad is old; he nearly died from the blow!”

“Bill, you have to stand up for us! We came here to check on Philippa and have a simple celebration dinner, but Carter turned it into a bloodbath! He’s acting like a tyrant, trampling over us without care!”

Bill spun toward Carter, anger flashing in his eyes. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

Carter calmly tossed the bloodied towel aside and met Bill’s gaze, his expression unshaken. “Bill,” he said coolly, “as you can see, I’m simply helping you fix your family.”