Chapter 12 They Are the Ones Blocking My Way!
With a gunshot, the bullet grazed James's shoulder. A burning pain shot through him instantly, and blood immediately seeped out, staining a patch of his black shirt red.
James didn't even have time to care about the pain. He lifted his leg and kicked hard at Trevor's wrist.
A crisp crack sounded, followed by Trevor's scream.
His gun flew out, hit a pillar, and clattered onto the stone pavement.
James's eyes were cold as he kicked Trevor hard in the chest.
Trevor fell to the ground, clutching his chest and groaning, blood foam at the corner of his mouth.
Ignoring his shoulder wound, James rushed to Caroline's side and held her in his arms, gently comforting her.
"It's okay now, Caroline. It's over."
Caroline's eyes were red as she hugged James. Seeing the bloody mess on his shoulder, tears streamed down her face.
"You're bleeding. It must hurt so much. This is all my fault."
If she hadn't been threatened, James wouldn't have gotten hurt.
James shook his head.
"It's just a scratch. Don't worry."
Back when he was fighting in the jungle, his wounds were way worse than this.
Caroline bit her lip, frantically wanting to press on the wound but not daring to apply pressure.
Soon, footsteps came from outside the courtyard. Kevin rushed in with a dozen men.
Seeing James injured, his expression darkened immediately. With a wave of his hand, everyone pointed their guns at the Anderson family's bodyguards.
"Everyone get down with your hands on your heads! Anyone moves, we shoot!"
The bodyguards, seeing they were beaten, panicked and crouched down, heads lowered.
They knew these guys meant business—resisting meant death.
Two Specter Syndicate members stepped forward, grabbed Trevor, twisted his arms behind his back, and pressed a knee into his spine, pinning him to the ground so he couldn't move.
"James! You're too arrogant! I'm your uncle—how dare you treat me like this!"
Trevor struggled desperately, his face pressed against the ground, his words muffled.
He was panicking inside but still acting tough, thinking that as long as he didn't confess, James couldn't do anything to him.
"Uncle?"
James laughed coldly, walked up to him, and stepped on his back.
"You think you deserve that title? Ten years ago when my parents were attacked abroad, did you hire those people?"
"No! You're making false accusations! The Harris family and Steel Serpent Mercenaries acted on their own—it has nothing to do with me!"
Trevor shouted until his voice was hoarse, his eyes darting around, not daring to meet James's gaze.
He knew that even though everything was exposed, if he refused to admit it, he might still get away with it.
"Nothing to do with you?"
James pressed his foot down harder. Trevor grunted in pain.
"Victor from the Harris family, Otis from Steel Serpent Mercenaries—which one hasn't pointed the finger at you? Trevor, things have come to this point, and you're still lying."
A flash of viciousness crossed Trevor's eyes. Knowing that denying it was useless, he suddenly burst out laughing.
"Yes, I did it all! If you want to blame someone, blame your parents—they were in my way!"
"The Anderson family is mine! The Anderson family is mine!"
James sneered and kicked Trevor in the face, then pulled out his gun and pressed it hard against his head.
Just then, the sound of a cane tapping the ground came from the courtyard entrance, and the yard instantly fell silent.
James turned around to see his grandfather, Garth Anderson, leaning on his cane, supported by the butler, slowly walking in.
Garth's hair was completely white, but his back was straight. His eyes swept over the mess in the courtyard, his brow furrowed tight.
James narrowed his eyes. He hadn't expected Garth to come.
Ten years ago, after his parents were attacked, Garth had shut himself away and stopped managing the Anderson family's affairs.
James believed Garth had tacitly approved everything Trevor did. His heart was full of resentment and frustration, mixed with feelings he couldn't quite name.
So facing Garth now, his expression was complicated.
Caroline also gripped James's arm tighter, worried.
She knew Garth had a stern personality. Looking at the situation now, whose side would he take?
If he chose to help Trevor, what would James do?
Seeing Garth, Trevor grabbed onto him like a lifeline, struggling and shouting.
"Dad! Dad, you're here! James, this thug, wants to kill me! He wants to steal the Anderson family fortune! Save me!"
Garth ignored him, leaning on his cane as he walked to the middle of the courtyard. His gaze swept over the bodyguards crouching on the ground, then landed on James's bleeding shoulder. His frown deepened, and he shouted at the butler who had followed him.
"What are you standing there for? Go get the medical kit and treat James's wound."
The butler immediately ran off. Trevor was stunned, shouting in disbelief.
"Dad! Why are you helping him? He betrayed the family! I'm your son!"
"You think you deserve to be my son?"
Garth's voice turned cold. He struck his cane hard on the stone pavement with a dull thud.
"Trevor, let me ask you—ten years ago when Peter's family was killed, was that you?"
Trevor's face instantly turned pale. His eyes darted around wildly, but he still tried to hold firm.
"Dad, who's been feeding you lies? That was an accident—mercenaries killing innocent people. It had nothing to do with me."
"Nothing to do with you?"
Garth pulled a manila envelope from his coat and threw it in front of Trevor.
"See for yourself! One of the people you hired ten years ago didn't die. I found him. This is his testimony, along with records of the money you paid him—every single transaction is documented. You still want to deny it?"
Trevor looked at the envelope, all his strength draining away, his hands and feet ice cold.
He thought all those people were dead. He never imagined there was a survivor, and that Garth had found evidence.
His mind went blank. All his earlier arrogance vanished, leaving only fear.
"Dad, I..."
His mouth hung open, unable to form a complete sentence for a long time. His body went limp on the ground like a puddle of mud.
Seeing him like this, Garth was so angry his chest heaved. He struck the ground with his cane again.
"How did the Anderson family raise such a heartless monster like you! Peter was your own brother, and for the family fortune, you hired people to kill his whole family. Are you even human? All these years you've controlled the Anderson family business, doing whatever you wanted—I've had enough of you! If it weren't for gathering evidence to convict you, I would have dealt with you long ago!"
James stood to the side, looking at Garth, his heart a mix of emotions.
He had resented him, hated him, hated Garth's silence ten years ago. But now the truth wasn't what he had thought.
Garth had known all along. He had never given up searching for the truth.
The butler came running back with the medical kit. Caroline quickly took it and pulled James to sit on a stone bench.
She first used an alcohol swab to clean the skin around the wound. When the alcohol touched the wound, James didn't even furrow his brow.
Caroline's movements were gentle, using a cotton swab to lightly wipe away the blood, her eyes full of concern.
"James, you don't have to hold it in."
Ten years ago, when James had hurt his arm, he would grimace in pain.
But now, with such a serious gunshot wound, he kept enduring it. Had ten years really changed him this much?