Chapter 106: Cooling off
"Drinking and eating meat when you're supposed to be taking care of your brain and blood vessels?" Miranda realized immediately that her father was lying to her, "When I married Mark, you certainly didn't behave this way."
"In those days, he was a part of the Miller family, and now what is he? Just a meager restaurant owner!" Miranda's father grew impatient, "I'm not afraid to tell you, if you don't agree, I'll come here every day to eat. If you have the guts, try to throw me out!"
"Mark, do you dare?" Miranda's father looked scornfully at his son-in-law.
Mark bowed his head, swallowing his pride as he spoke, "Dad, please stop joking. How could I ever raise a hand to you? If you want to eat, I'll go make it right now."
He felt that he already owed Miranda a lot, and of course, he felt even more ashamed in front of her family; he couldn't dare say much more than that.
"Worthless!" Miranda's father looked at Mark with utter contempt, "Go on, scamper off to the kitchen then."
"I said, today you're not eating here!" Miranda blocked her husband again, refusing to budge an inch.
"We're not welcome here!"
"That's a bit different from what you told me," said a dandy young man who had foisted himself in from the restaurant entrance, after apparently listening in for some time.
As soon as Miranda's father and Kenneth saw him, they stood up quickly, somewhat sheepishly.
"Mr. Flores, what brings you here?"
Mr. Flores's face looked somewhat displeased, "If I hadn't come, would you have kept me in the dark indefinitely? You said Miranda had agreed and was preparing to divorce, but from what I'm hearing, that doesn't seem to be the case. And yet you dare to take my money?"
Miranda's father said with a forced smile, "Don't worry, Mr. Flores, after all, I am her father. A few more persuasions will make a difference."
"Is that so?" Mr. Flores's gaze fell on Miranda's apron, noting the curvaceous figure beneath, revealing the charm of a married woman. He swallowed hard, "Well, then that's even better."
Mark realized this man was the instigator of it all, and he surely wouldn't be as polite to him as he was to Miranda's father and Kenneth.
"Get out, you're not welcome here!"
"And if I insist on staying, what would you do about it?" Mr. Flores smirked at Mark with a brazen look of confidence.
The Miller family's distant branch member, or rather the outcast – why should he care about any of them?
Mark faced him with a cold demeanor, turning back into the kitchen. When he emerged, he was holding a cleaver in his hand.
"Are you trying to scare me with a knife?" Mr. Flores laughed and took out his cell phone to send a message.
In less than a minute, the screeching of tires was heard outside, and a black BMW pulled up at the entrance. The driver and the passenger got out, each holding a baton.
This was the car Mr. Flores arrived in; one man was the driver and the other a bodyguard, both trained. They could easily handle a chef.
"Even if I take Miranda away right in front of you today, what could you possibly do about it?" he said brazenly.
Miranda's father and Kenneth's expressions flickered but they said nothing more.
Mark's face paled, his grip on the kitchen knife tightened.
Miranda turned pale and moved closer to her husband.
Just then, the roaring sound of a vehicle erupted. It seemed to have been parked nearby all along, only now starting up, and it did so with frightening speed.
Everyone looked toward the door to see the driver and bodyguard who had just alighted and stood beside the BMW, their faces ashen, desperately trying to jump away.
But it was already too late.
With a thunderous crash, a wildly designed military SUV slammed into the black BMW.
The BMW flipped over like a toy, pinning the driver and the bodyguard beneath it.
Both men screamed in agony, blood pooling on the ground where they were trapped.
"Drunk driving? Or a vendetta against society?"
Similar thoughts crossed everyone's minds as they saw the SUV come to a stop.
The BMW was overturned, but the SUV appeared undamaged, its headlights still intact, with just a few small chips of paint missing.
"What kind of vehicle is this?" Mark was somewhat stunned; even in his time with the Miller family, he had never seen one of such remarkable quality.
It had to be a top-of-the-line off-road vehicle specially made for the military!
Mr. Flores was momentarily stunned, then frantically ran over to the BMW, on the verge of being totaled, and to his subordinates who were now unconscious beneath it, furious.
"Get out of there! Pay up. I'm going to the Public Security Bureau to have you thrown in jail!"
He could tell this was no accident. The owner of the SUV hadn't swerved or braked at all. The collision was clearly intentional.
Bending over to pick up a baton that had fallen to the ground, Mr. Flores walked forward, intending to drag the driver out and give him a severe beating.
The Flores family had power and influence; they had sent many who crossed them to prison, justified or not.
Having seen Mark with the knife today, that was his intention – let his men subdue Mark, take Miranda away, and then find connections to charge Mark with assault with a deadly weapon, perhaps a decade in prison.
But now, he was prepared to vent his anger on the owner of the SUV first!