Chapter 2 The Divine Healer Reemerges

At Gravitas Realty Group, the crystal clear glass door slowly swung open automatically. Huxley strode in, his face devoid of any hint of emotion. Swish, swish, swish! The moment he stepped through the door, the busy employees stopped in their tracks. All of them turned their attention toward him, gossiping and gesturing amongst themselves. In the gaze of these dozens of pairs of eyes, a myriad of emotions were bursting forth. Some of it was sympathy; some mockery; some contempt; and some indifference. Everyone recognized him, for he was the husband of Samara, the woman who had tragically taken her own life by leaping from a building after enduring a horrific rape. Consequently, he was one unlucky guy. Faced with the numerous piercing glances, Huxley didn't even bat an eyelid as he completely ignored them. In his eyes, these people were worthless, not even deserving of his attention. He went straight to the male manager at the front desk of the lobby. The manager asked somewhat awkwardly, “Mr. Carrington, what can I do for you?” Huxley spoke in a commanding tone. “I need all the surveillance footage from the day my wife had an incident.” His wife served as the assistant sales manager at the company. Before the incident occurred, she had spent her entire day at work. As long as the surveillance records could be obtained, an investigation could reveal what had happened. The manager's expression subtly shifted, a hint of regret on his face. “I'm very sorry, Mr. Carrington,” he said. “We had some problems with our system a few days ago, which resulted in the deletion of all surveillance records. I'm really sorry!” Huxley's eyes suddenly widened. He scoffed, “Even a three-year-old won't believe such nonsense.” How could it be so coincidental? There's no way such crucial evidence can vanish just like that. “It's true, Mr. Carrington.” The manager bowed slightly. Huxley narrowed his eyes and said, “Give me the hard drive. I'll find someone to recover it myself.” With his connections, it was a simple matter for him to call upon a few world-class experts. As long as the hard drive was still intact, recovery was not an issue. At the mention of the hard drive, the manager's face turned ashen. He replied hesitantly, “Mr. Carrington, this involves the company's privacy and commercial secrets. I cannot disclose it to you.” “Enough of this nonsense!” Huxley had lost his patience, waving his hand dismissively. “Tell your boss to come out here, I want to speak with him directly. I'm curious to see who's been stirring up trouble behind the scenes!” Everyone exchanged glances. The manager hesitated before saying, “Perhaps we should schedule an appointment first. Would you like to come back another day?” Bang! Huxley slammed his hand down in anger, the force of it causing the entire marble front desk to quake. “Since when do I need to make an appointment just to meet someone? People have always sought appointments with me, never daring to demand that I schedule one with them. I'm giving him three minutes to come out, not a second more, or he'll face the consequences!” At that moment, he was desperate to pursue the culprit, no longer suppressing his inherently domineering nature. Just as everyone was caught in a dilemma, they suddenly heard someone utter coldly, “Really? I am actually curious to see what would happen if I exceeded the three-minute limit!” As the words echoed, two figures emerged from the VIP elevator. The one in front was a man in his early thirties, dressed in a suit and polished leather shoes. His hair was slicked back and he wore a gold Rolex watch. His face was pale, evidently a result of excessive indulgence in alcohol and other pleasures, and his eyes carried a certain arrogance. Following him was a burly man who looked incredibly sturdy. His muscles seemed ready to burst out of his suit. He wore sunglasses, remained silent, and clutched something hard in his arms—it was likely a gun. “Mr. Zimmerman!” “Mr. Zimmerman!” “Mr. Zimmerman!” The staff on site quickly bowed and greeted him in unison. The person who arrived was none other than the boss of Gravitas Realty Group. His name was Neil Zimmerman, a recently successful real estate entrepreneur. Following closely behind him was a burly man, his personal bodyguard. A former military man, he was skilled in hand-to-hand combat and proficient in various types of firearms. His name was Tyga Langton. “Tell me, what do you want from me?” Neil approached cheekily, looking at Huxley as if the latter was a fool. “Who instructed you to tamper with the surveillance footage?” Huxley said coldly. “What's wrong? Still can't let go of this case? Even the police are at their wits' end.” Neil shrugged, jesting, “Buddy, you should be happy. Your wife's dead, and you've got a million in compensation. Why not find a young, pretty one? Or are you... hoping to squeeze out more compensation?” “Don't try to mess with someone you can't afford to, understand?” Huxley retorted. “Who do you think you are?” Neil burst into hearty laughter. “Buddy, a million is more than enough. For someone like your wife, that's about the right price. You can't ask for more.” This statement struck a chord with the deep-seated pain in Huxley's heart. His eyes suddenly turned red. In the next moment, he swung his hand forcefully. Slap! A crisp sound resonated, audible to everyone present. Two white teeth were knocked out, landing on the ground.