Chapter 51: Twist Off the Judge’s Head!
David's legs went weak the moment he heard those words.
Just moments ago, he'd been shouting orders to arrest people. Now Andrew was kneeling, security guards were sprawled across the floor, and that fake doctor was pinned down—even an idiot could tell he hadn't just messed up, he'd dug his own grave.
"Mr. Bruce, I was wrong, I was really wrong."
He dropped to his knees with a thud, his kneecaps smashing right onto the broken glass. Ignoring the pain, he started slapping himself across the face.
"I was blind."
"I looked down on people like a dog."
"I shouldn't have disrespected your family, shouldn't have scared the child. I thought it was a system error, I thought there was something wrong with the card. I really didn't mean it. Please, give me one chance!"
After a few slaps, his lip split open and half his face swelled up immediately.
He didn't dare stop, kept slapping himself while crying.
"Helen, please say something. I ran my mouth earlier, I deserve to die. I'll kowtow to you!"
With that, he actually started kowtowing to Helen.
The floor was covered in glass shards, and his forehead quickly started bleeding.
Helen held Jenny, her whole body still frozen. She'd been one step away from handing Jenny over to a killer's needle. Now, watching David kneeling and slapping himself, she felt no satisfaction—only lingering fear.
Grant steadied himself against the table edge, caught his breath, and said quietly, "Too late."
Hearing this, David crawled toward Wayne instead.
"Mr. Bruce, I'll pay whatever you want. I'll compensate you with everything I own—my properties, my bank accounts, all of it. Just please don't send me to prison, please don't destroy me!"
Wayne didn't even look at him, just turned to Andrew kneeling beside him.
"I don't want to see this person in the financial industry ever again."
Andrew responded almost instantly, "Understood!"
He shot to his feet and immediately started shouting.
"Legal team, risk control team, record this immediately: Client manager David endangered an SSS-level client and their family, abused armed security authority, misled medical treatment, and threatened the life of a minor client. Effective immediately—terminated and permanently banned from the global financial industry!"
The executives behind him were terrified, but none dared disobey the order.
"Yes!"
"Execute immediately!"
David's face turned ashen. "No, no, you can't do this, Andrew. I've worked in the North American division for eight years. I have performance records. I'm a full manager. I didn't mean to!"
Andrew completely ignored him and continued issuing orders.
"Freeze all bonuses, equity dividends, retirement accounts, and deferred compensation under his name. Initiate asset review procedures. Transfer him to the FBI and Federal Financial Investigation Bureau on charges of endangering a top-secret client's safety. Revoke all professional licenses immediately!"
Two legal advisors stepped forward and grabbed David from both sides.
"What are you doing? Let go of me!"
"I still have a house, I still have accounts, I still have family—you can't take everything!"
"Andrew, I just checked a card, I just locked a door. I didn't commit a crime!"
Andrew kicked him in the shoulder.
"The moment you pointed a gun at a four-year-old child, you were finished."
David was kicked to the ground. Two security guards stripped off his suit jacket, tore off his tie, removed his badge, and even knocked off one of his shoes.
"No, don't drag me away!"
"Mr. Bruce, I was wrong. I'll kneel for a year if you want. Just please don't send me to prison!"
Wayne didn't respond at all.
David was dragged toward the door, his screams growing fainter.
The VIP room finally fell quiet for a few seconds.
Then the Reaper on the floor coughed up blood and struggled to lift his head.
"Wayne, you move fast."
Half his chest was caved in, his right hand was useless, but he was still smiling.
"But you can protect them today, not tomorrow. The Undertaker has already targeted your wife and daughter. As long as the Judge is alive, your whole family is dead."
Helen's grip tightened again when she heard "wife and daughter."
Grant frowned. "Who's the Judge?"
The Reaper spat blood. "European headquarters. Vice president. Controls thirty-seven divisions of the assassination network. Wayne, winning once in Texas doesn't mean you'll leave America alive."
Wayne looked down at him, his voice flat and emotionless.
"Finished talking?"
The Reaper grinned. "Scared?"
The next second—
Wayne stomped down, and the Reaper's left wrist snapped instantly.
A scream started.
Another stomp.
Left knee broken.
Another.
Right knee destroyed.
The final stomp landed on his ankle, shattering the bone completely.
All four limbs disabled.
The Reaper convulsed in agony, veins bulging from his forehead, unable to even curse properly.
Andrew and the executives stood nearby, not daring to breathe.
Helen finally understood why someone at Holt's level didn't dare raise his gun again at the hotel entrance.
Because Wayne and ordinary people didn't operate under the same rules.
The Reaper was still gasping, his mouth full of blood.
"You, you dare touch me, the Judge will definitely—"
Wayne pressed his foot on the Reaper's throat, cutting off the rest of his sentence.
"Go back and tell the Judge."
"Wash his neck clean and wait for me in Europe."
The Reaper stared at him with wide eyes.
Wayne bent down, lowering his voice slightly.
"I'll personally twist his head off."
When those words fell, the Reaper didn't respond for the first time.
Because he could tell—this wasn't a threat, it was a notification.
Grant stood nearby, silent for a few seconds before speaking.
"What do we do with this guy?"
Wayne straightened up. "Don't let him die. Send him to the interrogation team. I want the European headquarters' routes, lists, funding lines—not a single detail can be missed."
Andrew immediately responded, "I'll arrange it. The North American division has the highest security channel. We'll get him to your designated location within two hours."
Wayne nodded. "Do it now."
"Yes."
Several executives personally stepped forward, loaded the disabled Reaper into a blast-proof stretcher, not daring to lift their heads.
After he was taken away, Jenny called out softly.
"Daddy..."
Wayne turned around, the coldness on him instantly receding.
He walked over to Helen, took Jenny into his arms, and gently patted her back.
"It's over now."
Jenny was still sobbing, her little hands clutching his collar tightly.
"Daddy, I thought I'd never see you again."
"You will."
"That man said he was going to give me a shot."
"No one will ever dare do that again."
Jenny buried her face in his shoulder, and after a while, gradually calmed down.
Helen watched this scene, her lips moving, finally speaking up.
"I was the one who brought the card."
No one spoke.
She continued on her own.
"Last night I found it in your clothes. I wanted to find out if you were still hiding things from Emily. I thought the worst outcome would be finding some unexplained money, then taking them and leaving you."
She paused, her voice hoarse.
"Instead, I almost got Jenny killed."
Grant stood nearby, not defending her either.
Because there was really nothing to say about what happened today.
Wayne held Jenny and looked at Helen.
"You wanted to protect them. That's not wrong."
Helen froze.
"You don't blame me?"
"If someone wanted to take my daughter away, I'd check who they were first too."
Those words silenced Helen completely.
For four years, she'd believed Wayne owed Emily, owed Jenny, owed this family.
Only now, for the first time, did she truly realize that the man before her wasn't weak, wasn't incapable of protecting them.
He'd just come back too late.
Andrew bent over at that moment, holding the black card with both hands.
"Mr. Bruce, the Covenant of Gods card, intact. Please take it back."
Wayne didn't take it.
He glanced at Helen's still-open purse and casually tucked the black card inside.
Helen instinctively tensed.
Wayne held Jenny, his tone calm.
"Mom, the money in this card is enough to buy half of America. Now, let's go pick up Emily."