Sweet Wife So Charming: CEO: Hold Back Your Heart-Chapter 333: One-on-One Fight

Without waiting for his answer, he eagerly hung up the phone.

Julian Sinclair’s eyes turned dark, like a storm was incoming.

Adrian Grant had vaguely heard the gist of it and immediately frowned: "Such arrogance, who knows where this punk came from."

Seeing Julian Sinclair’s increasingly dark face, Adrian Grant held back his words and promptly pulled Julian aside, saying, "Don’t rush. It’s still early before three o’clock, you can plan a bit. Don’t follow his orders entirely; there might be other plots waiting for you. Even if you don’t consider for yourself, you should think about Moira."

He spoke sincerely, and Julian Sinclair squinted his eyes, thinking it over without objecting.

An hour later, Julian Sinclair came to the designated place alone, with a car full of cash.

Several thugs had been waiting by the roadside; maybe because they were confident, they didn’t make much effort to conceal themselves, only symbolically wearing masks.

Seeing Julian Sinclair’s figure, the leading thug asked, "Is it just one person who came?"

"Hmm." Julian Sinclair responded in a deep voice, and the thug was satisfied and tossed over a pure black blindfold.

"Put it on."

Julian Sinclair complied, and darkness enveloped him.

It was only then that the thugs approached, Julian Sinclair heard the excited whisper: "Holy crap, this money, all of it is real."

The leading thug spat disdainfully: "Look at your ignorance, get him in the car and take him away."

Before long, Julian Sinclair was taken inside a factory.

The lead thug fawned on the man sitting at the table, saying, "Drake, the person is here, the money is in the car, already counted, nothing is missing."

Heaven knows, they never thought they’d count money until their hands were sore one day.

The thug was burning with eagerness, Drake glanced at him disdainfully and remarked on Julian Sinclair’s tall figure: "Isn’t this the famous President Grant? Hello, hello." 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Julian Sinclair turned his head upon hearing the voice and smirked slightly: "Is Moira here?"

"Of course she’s here. Someone, take off President Grant’s blindfold." Drake chuckled.

Upon hearing that, Julian Sinclair moved his hands himself.

He squinted his eyes a bit, adapting to the light, saw the factory layout, and naturally saw Moira Young tied to a chair with her mouth gagged.

Seeing his gaze, Moira Young hurriedly shook her head, her eyes filled with urgency and despair.

Uncle, this fool!

She had told him not to come, why did he still come?

Moira Young pouted aggrievedly, her little face dirty.

Julian Sinclair’s heart ached, he couldn’t help but tighten his fist; on the surface, he calmly proposed: "You just want the money and me, let her go, I’ll stay."

"Really?" Drake seemed to enjoy watching such touching scenes, "Then we should ask the girl’s opinion too."

He gestured, and the thug guarding her immediately took the cloth off Moira Young’s mouth, making her cough tearfully.

After calming down a bit, she shouted hoarsely: "Uncle, Uncle, leave quickly, they’re using me to lure you here to kill you; it’s a plot."

At the moment Moira Young spoke, the gentle and harmless Julian Sinclair’s demeanor changed instantly, like a leopard in the forest preparing to attack.

The thugs around were as if unable to restrain a chicken, knocked down to the ground within moments.

The leisurely Drake was shocked by the sudden change, instinctively pulling out a fruit knife from his waist and pressing it against Moira Young’s throat, speaking harshly: "Julian Sinclair, if you don’t want your little lover to die, then stop for fuck’s sake."

Julian Sinclair’s expression didn’t change, but he slowly lowered his hand.

The thugs who had been rolling on the ground quickly got up, patted the spots where they were hit, and then kicked Julian Sinclair, cursing as they did: "Grandmother! Daring to hit your grandpa, come on, hit now!"

Under their successive attacks, Julian Sinclair soon wound up bruised, his neat and clean suit stained with patches of blood.

Moira Young felt like daggers in her heart, sobbing: "Uncle, Uncle, fight back!"

She could get hurt, but Uncle must be okay.

Perhaps because she cried too much, Drake cursed impatiently and poured a bottle of cold mineral water over her head: "Crying, crying, what’s there to cry about? You should be happy seeing your little lover get beaten like this, I don’t beat others, how about this, don’t you feel particularly good seeing your little lover beaten since it’s for you he’s being beaten."

Drake was like a pervert, enjoying such low-level sadistic pleasure.

Moira Young was furious, her hair disheveled on her cheek, the water stinging her eyes, making them even redder, yet glaring at those thugs defiantly, she retorted: "You crooks who commit atrocities, if we can’t punish you, Heaven will. You will face retribution! You filthy stinking dogs, if we die, you won’t have peace either!"

She racked her brain for insulting words, like a little wildcat ready to pounce.

Drake’s face changed, and the next second, Moira Young recklessly darted her head forward, biting down hard on Drake’s hand, simultaneously the sharp blade dug into her tender skin, leaving a bleeding cut.

Moira Young was clearly desperate.

Kneeling on one knee, Julian Sinclair, who had been watching the movement attentively, had a fierce look in his eyes. Taking advantage of Drake’s scream of pain as he flung his hand, Julian Sinclair charged in, kicking Drake.

The table crashed loudly, and Uncle Drake’s eyes went black, passing out.

Julian Sinclair suppressed his heavy breathing, bent down to pick up the knife, and cut the ropes.

Moira Young quickly supported him, whispering: "Uncle, are you okay?"

"I’m fine." Julian Sinclair raised his hand protectively in front of her, while the thugs standing still realized something was wrong and swarmed forward.

Moira Young took a step back, curling into a safe corner.

Uncle might be very skilled, but he was injured earlier and had to protect her, so he might struggle. She couldn’t become Uncle’s burden.

Her eyes steeled, Moira Young bit her lower lip and grabbed a discarded steel pipe, hiding the pipe behind her.

Having experienced a car accident before, Moira Young was much calmer in such situations.

Even though her legs were still weak, she could stand.

Tightly gripping the steel pipe, Moira Young watched the surrounding people warily, while Julian Sinclair charged in to fight the thugs.

The suit jacket was cumbersome in a fight, so Julian Sinclair decisively threw it off, leaving only a thin shirt.

At first, he had the upper hand, but as time passed and the thugs occasionally used distracting tactics, the bloodstains on Julian Sinclair’s body grew heavier.