Chapter 390

“At this point, West End can’t even send out a proper representative,” Andrew stated emotionlessly. “Since you’re treating me like I don’t exist, I’ll kill you first, then have a chat with Natasha.”

“Mr. Lloyd, please don’t go too far!” a voice suddenly thundered from behind.

“Conan, done watching the show from your hiding spot?” Andrew smirked as he released his grip and kicked the tattooed giant toward Conan.

Conan’s face twitched. He knew the tattooed giant was one of Natasha’s most fearless fighters, young and skilled in hand-to-hand combat, yet Andrew had broken him so effortlessly.

“Please follow me, Mr. Lloyd. Madam Vostokoff will see you now,” Conan said coldly.

Andrew sneered. “Oh, now she’s willing to meet after this show of force?”

“Mr. Lloyd, West End has already absorbed Atlas’s territory,” Conan stated angrily. “If you were smart, you wouldn’t have come here.”

“So, if I hadn’t shown up, Natasha would just take everything herself?” Andrew’s face remained expressionless.

He continued, “I don’t care about Atlas’s death or the Northern District’s assets, but Dylan is my man. What about his share? Natasha’s actions have pissed me off, and when I’m angry, do you think West End can enjoy their spoils in peace?”

Conan’s face twitched harder, but he could not respond. Andrew’s words had blocked every possible argument, whether based on business, personal relationships, or moral grounds.

This time, Andrew met Natasha in an elegantly decorated room instead of the usual conference room. She was reclining on a sandalwood sofa with her eyes closed.

“Madam Vostokoff!” Conan announced as he brought Andrew in.

“Conan, you may leave. Close the door behind you.” Natasha opened her eyes.

“But Madam, you’re injured from fighting Atlas! You shouldn’t be alone with outsiders!” Conan protested.

“It’s fine. If he wants to be rough with me, I’ll accept whatever he decides to do.” Natasha waved Conan away.

After Conan left with a hostile glance at Andrew, Natasha forced a smile. “Why such anger? I’m here—let me make it up to you.”

“Drop the act,” Andrew said flatly. “Dylan’s exhaustion is real, but yours is just a performance, isn’t it?”

Natasha’s smile froze and disappeared as her face turned expressionless. “How did you know I was faking?”

Andrew smirked, “The Blood Surge Pill does cause temporary weakness. But you seem to have forgotten that I’m a master physician. I can spot a fake condition instantly.”

Natasha’s composed expression suddenly turned to shock.