Chapter 61: Stop Pretending
Finished
Phillip rubbed his forehead, his patience thinning. “George, I didn’t come here to watch you lecture your son. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you half a day. In that time, you must return the item to me. Otherwise, you’ll be receiving a lawyer’s letter.”
With that, he turned, motioning for the housekeepers to follow him as they moved in a precise, orderly fashion back toward the mansion.
George opened his mouth, as if to call out, but the words got stuck in his throat.
In a surge of anger, he lashed out, kicking Caleb hard in the leg. “You little rebel! Where did you hide their stuff? Hand it over now, and maybe I’ll let you off easy. Otherwise…”
His words were biting, his gaze filled with hostility.
Caleb, weary from explaining himself over and over, sighed. “I didn’t steal it. I can’t hand over what I don’t have.”
“You’re still playing dumb?” George growled, his hand raised, ready to strike again. But as his eyes flicked over the bruises and wounds covering Caleb’s body, he lowered his hand.
“Forget it,” George muttered, frustration seeping into his voice. “You’ve got nowhere to hide. There are only so many places you could stash it. With enough time, it’ll be easy to find.”
With a sudden, sharp motion, George grabbed Caleb by the collar. “Get in the car!”
Everything around Caleb blurred as dizziness swept over him. His body felt like it was spinning, and before he knew it, he was dragged into the car by George. The engine roared to life, and George, his anger barely contained, sped off at an alarming pace.
He’d always looked down on Gianna for associating with Caleb, but when the Sherman family threatened to take action against the Quixall family, he was frightened.
Compared to the Quixall family, the Sherman family might have seemed slightly weaker, but the only difference lay in their influence.
Over the years, Phillip had built an impressive network, attending numerous high-profile events and forming connections with international business elites. If the Sherman family decided to go all in and target the Quixall family, it would be a challenge the Quixalls couldn’t easily overcome.
George exhaled sharply, his frustration building, and slammed on the brakes.
Caleb’s forehead slammed into the backrest in front of him with a thud. His ears rang, and for a brief moment, everything went black.
Since his release from prison, Caleb had endured trial after trial–physical abuse, underhanded schemes, and the brutal sting of betrayal.
His body, still recovering from the injuries he sustained at the construction site, hadn’t yet healed when George’s violent outburst struck again.
Even his body, hardened by years of suffering, was beginning to show signs of wear, unable to withstand the constant onslaught.
In his dazed state, Caleb felt the car door wrenched open with force.
“Stop playing dead! Get out and find the stolen loot, then you can go back to your pitiful act!” George snarled.
With brutal strength, George yanked Caleb from the car. The force was so sudden that Caleb’s forehead collided hard with the edge of the door.
A sharp, blinding pain exploded in his head, and his vision swam. He clenched his teeth, fighting to hold back the cry of agony threatening to escape.
A cry of surprise pierced the air, followed by a soft, heartbroken voice.
“What happened?” Deborah asked, her voice filled with concern.
“It’s all his fault!” George barked, his anger unabated. “If we don’t find the things, he can forget about leaving this house. Go!”
He shoved Caleb forward, throwing him into the Quixall residence’s living room.
“We’re here. Start talking–make it clear!” George barked, his voice thick with rage. He looked as though he could tear Caleb apart with his bare hands.
The Quixall family had always prided itself on a spotless reputation, but ever since Caleb reentered their lives, everything had begun to unravel.
George thought that if he didn’t take control of the situation, there’d be no telling how far the damage would spread.
Under the piercing stares of everyone present, Caleb spat and refused to comply. “Even if you beat me to death, I can’t hand over something I never had!”
George let out a low, bitter laugh. “Fine. Then I’ll beat you until you remember!”
The whip cracked down like a storm, each strike searing across Caleb’s skin. Pain exploded through him, until finally, his body gave out and he crumpled to the floor–unconscious.
“Playing possum again?” George growled. “Search the place! We will find those stolen things!”