Oliver looked at Jethro and frowned. He suddenly grabbed Jethro by the neck and yanked him upward with surprising strength. Jethro looked terrified. His feet left the ground as Oliver lifted him easily.

"I know you..." Oliver said in a cold voice.

Jethro almost cried. Of all the people who could recognise him, why did it have to be this monster?

Before anyone could react, Mhi Ho suddenly stood up from his chair.

"Whoa... whoa... whoa..." he said. "Easy there. That’s my guest..."

His words were cut short when Oliver punched him in the jaw. Mhi Ho stumbled backwards.

"Don’t touch me," Oliver snapped. His eyes burned with anger.

Mhi Ho’s men around the room shouted, "Wowwww!" They leaned forward in their seats, grinning and murmuring. They looked amused, as if the sudden fight was fun entertainment for the night. One of them even laughed and slapped his knee.

Mhi Ho steadied himself. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When he looked at it, there was blood on his knuckles. His usual relaxed smile disappeared. His eyes became hard.

"Don’t make me do this, you motherfucker," he warned. His voice dropped low and dangerous.

Without another word, he rushed forward and punched Oliver hard in the chest. Oliver staggered backwards. The corner of his lip split open.

"OHHHHHHH!" The gang members quickly moved back. No one wanted to get caught between the two men.

Oliver slowly got up. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He charged at Mhi Ho with the same anger. Their bodies crashed together in a messy fight of punches and grabs.

Oliver’s elbow hit Mhi Ho in the ribs. Mhi Ho hit back with a sharp punch that split Oliver’s lip again.

They fell into a nearby table. Glasses shattered, and wine spilt everywhere. The fight was rough and unplanned. Both men put years of anger into every hit. Neither wanted to give up first. One of Oliver’s kicks pushed Mhi Ho into one of his own men. The man just stepped aside, still chuckling.

The fight continued. The calm room turned into a noisy scene of swinging arms and heavy breathing. Blood now dripped from both their noses, staining their shirts and the floor. Mhi Ho’s knuckles were raw and bleeding. Oliver had a quickly swelling eye. Still, neither was ready to stop. Their movements became slower as they got tired.

Finally, Mhi Ho pushed Oliver back with both hands. He was breathing hard. "Stop this, idiot!" he shouted. "Henry will sort it out!"

They stood there for a moment, both bent over, breathing heavily. Blood and sweat covered their faces. The room became strangely quiet, except for a few laughs from Mhi Ho’s men, who were clearly enjoying the show.

Oliver wiped his bloody mouth with his sleeve and glared at Mhi Ho. Mhi Ho, who was used to dusting his expensive suit in annoyance.

Without saying anything, Oliver turned to Jethro, who was still sitting on the chair, gritting his teeth in pain. He snorted and kicked him away from the chair. Oliver then sat down in the chair, looking tired like someone who had just finished a bar fight.

He picked up the nearest bottle of wine, poured a full glass, and drank it slowly. The wine burned, but it helped calm the adrenaline in his body.

Mhi Ho watched everything with a tired look. He finally sat back in his chair and poured himself a glass, too. He took a big drink, leaving a red stain on his bloody lip.

"Someone should take him to the hospital," he muttered, nodding at Jethro. "We still have a lot to do with him."

He looked at Oliver, who was staring into his glass with an angry face, and sighed.

"Let me guess," Mhi Ho said with dry humour, even with bruises on his face. "Henry’s new wife is one of your friends." He shook his head slowly and winced. "How am I supposed to handle both you and Henry? It’s like trying to control cats in a thunderstorm. One minute everything is calm, the next it’s all chaos."

The room stayed in an awkward, almost funny silence. Mhi Ho’s men shifted in their seats, some still hiding their smiles. Oliver didn’t reply. He finished his wine in one big gulp, put the glass down loudly, and stood up. Without looking back or saying goodbye, he walked out of the room. His footsteps echoed long after he was gone.

The door clicked shut. Mhi Ho and his crew were left to clean up the mess. Jethro groaned weakly on the floor. Mhi Ho rubbed his sore jaw and muttered about difficult allies and the trouble they bring.

The fight had been wild and even a bit ridiculous. But it showed the hidden tensions in their group. As the excitement faded, a heavy feeling settled over the room. Henry would have to fix this later. Until then, the air was full of unanswered questions and the smell of blood.

...

Michael stood in the dimly lit garage of Nik’s company. His broad back faced a group of boys who leaned against the concrete walls. They waited quietly for instructions.

The air smelled strongly of motor oil, rubber, and car exhaust. It was the kind of place where secret deals happened under flickering lights, not in fancy offices.

Tools clattered in the background, but the real tension was in the silence. These boys were not ordinary mechanics or drivers. They were loyal helpers who knew too much about dangerous people.

...

The underground parking garage of NIK’S Company was unusually quiet that afternoon.

Rows of expensive cars stood neatly under the bright white lights. Security cameras rotated silently from every corner while employees moved in and out through distant elevators.

Near the far end of the garage, Michael stood beside a black luxury car. Anyone who knew him well would immediately understand something dangerous was about to happen.

A few meters behind him, several young men stood nervously. Nobody dared to speak.

The atmosphere alone was suffocating. Not long after, hurried footsteps echoed through the garage.

BANG!

Two men were suddenly kicked forward. They crashed violently onto the hard concrete floor.