Chapter 1927

Chantelle’s face went pale as panic swept over her. If that mad dog of a director from Special Ops, Barnaby, really stepped in to save Hank, things could get ugly fast. With the way Special Ops operated, not even Derek would be able to handle the fallout easily.

While everyone was still frowning, unsure what to do next, Andrew had already rolled up his sleeves and landed two brutal slaps across Hank’s face.

Hank, who had just been kicked earlier, now got his face lit up again. This time, it swelled instantly.

He roared, “Andrew! How dare you slap me again? Are you out of your damn mind? Didn’t you hear me say that Mr. Hale is coming for me personally?”

His voice cracked with fury, eyes blazing.

Most people would have backed down after hearing Barnaby’s name, but Andrew? He did not even flinch.

Hank could not understand what was wrong with him.

How many lives did this lunatic think he had to spare?

“I don’t care who you report to,” Andrew said coldly, yanking Hank up by the hair. “I don’t give a damn about your director either. Right now, you’re gonna kneel to Mr. Keller Senior and apologize. Properly.”

Hank bared his teeth. “Screw you. Dream on! You won’t be so cocky for long.”

Andrew’s open palms came down like a rainstorm. When he got tired of using his hands, he switched to his feet, kicking Hank viciously in the gut.

Within seconds, Hank was curled on the floor, coughing up bile and blood, his reopened wounds pouring fresh crimson onto the tiles.

Chantelle and the others stood frozen in shock.

“Andy, seriously… That’s enough.”

It was not until George finally spoke that Andrew halted.

He calmly buttoned up his suit jacket, straightened his sleeves, and looked down at Hank like he was nothing more than trash.

“Now,” he said coolly, “are you ready to apologize?”

Hank curled up tighter, his hand over his head, too afraid to lift it. “Andrew, if anything happens to me… You and your whole crew will be wiped off the map! Mark my words!”

Andrew grabbed a vase off the table and shattered it right over Hank’s skull.

Then, he turned to Logan with a deadly glare. “Bring me a butcher knife. A sharp one. If I don’t bleed this bastard out tonight, I won’t sleep right!”

Logan flinched. He could tell Andrew was not bluffing. Even Chantelle and George exchanged a stunned look.

This version of Andrew was unrecognizable.

He was not just furious. He was lethal.

The brutal calm beneath his fury, the cold precision in his violence. It made all three Keller women shiver, their bodies instinctively recoiling from the icy pressure in the air.

“Andrew, you’re scaring me…” Chantelle whispered.

Ever since their relationship became public, her pride and coldness had melted away around him. What replaced them was awe, fear, and a growing sense that she barely knew this man at all.

Logan returned with the knife, and Andrew snatched it without hesitation. He twirled it twice, and the sharp blade sang in the air before he lowered it, aiming straight for Hank’s throat.

That was when Hank finally broke.

“Wait! Wait! Andrew… Mr. Lloyd… S–Sir, please don’t! We can talk this out! I’ll apologize! I’ll drop to my knees and beg! Whatever you say, I’ll do it! Just please don’t kill me!”

His shrieks were so desperate and so pathetic. They did not even sound human anymore, more like an animal at the slaughterhouse.