After chatting for more than half an hour, Queenie stood up and said, "Grandpa, I'm heading back to the Queenie Group. I'll come visit again soon."
"Well, your work is important. Everything's fine here," Mr. Wodehouse replied with a comforting smile.
"If Gary dares to upset you again, let me know. I'll teach him a lesson myself."
Queenie gave her grandfather a brief hug, then turned to John. "You, come with me. I have something to talk to you about."
John nodded and followed her silently.
Outside the yard, a sleek Porsche 911 was parked on the roadside with the driver waiting inside.
"Get in," Queenie ordered curtly.
John slid into the back seat, but as soon as the door closed behind him, he felt the air grow cold—not from the AC, but from Queenie's icy glare. Her eyes, sharp and unyielding, locked on him like frozen daggers.
John raised an eyebrow, confused. What's with her? They hadn't seen each other in fifteen years, sure—but was that a reason to treat him like a stranger?
"Tell me," Queenie said in a steely voice. "Why did you approach Mr. Wodehouse?"
"My intention?" John echoed, puzzled. "Sister, what are you talking about?"
"Stop pretending," she snapped. "I don't have time for games. Just tell me how much money you want."
John stared at her for a second, then finally understood. She didn't believe he was her brother. She thought he was a fraud.
So that's why she's acting like this.
He exhaled slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Instead of defending himself, he leaned back casually against the seat and crossed his arms.
"If you're so sure I'm a fake, why didn't you expose me to Grandpa just now?"
Queenie's expression grew colder. Just as he suspected, she hadn't believed he was still alive. But when she saw Mr. Wodehouse's happiness after so many years, she couldn't bring herself to crush it.
She didn't owe any explanation to an impostor, so she said nothing.
John shrugged. "Since we both got what we wanted, why not give me a ride before you kick me out?"
He closed his eyes, as if bored with the conversation.
With a reluctant sigh, Queenie turned to the driver. "Drive."
The atmosphere in the car turned glacial as they pulled away. Neither of them spoke, and the tension between them crackled like electricity.
Twenty minutes passed in silence before Queenie frowned and said, "This isn't the way to the Queenie Group."
The driver said nothing and kept going straight ahead.
A cold premonition crept down Queenie's spine.
Finally, the car rolled to a stop in an empty lot on the outskirts of town.
The driver turned around, flashing an ominous smile.
"Queenie, my boss wants something from you. Cooperate, and you won't get hurt."
Her voice turned sharp. "Sam, what the hell are you doing?"
"Relax. I just need a few photos. But you'll have to be naked first."
With that, Sam locked the doors and pulled a camera and a knife from beneath the driver's seat.
"You're a smart woman, Queenie. I'm sure you know what to do."
Then he glanced at John and grinned. "Kid, you're lucky today. A lot of men would kill for a glimpse of this ice queen's body, and now you've got a front-row seat."
He laughed.
Instead of panicking, Queenie narrowed her eyes and asked coldly, "Tell me—who's your boss? The Beauty Group? Or Jack?"
The Beauty Group was Queenie Group's fiercest competitor in the skincare industry. Their rivalry had been long and bitter. And now, with Queenie Group about to go public, a scandal like this could destroy everything.
As for Jack—the HR manager who had hired Sam—it wasn't a stretch to think he was a pawn of the enemy.
Sam clapped slowly, smirking. "I've heard you were clever. You just proved it."
His smirk widened. "But clever or not, you'd better start undressing. If I have to do it for you, I might not stop at just photos."
His eyes gleamed with sick excitement.
But before he could move—
SLAP!
A large hand shot out and clamped around Sam's wrist like a steel vice. John's gaze turned deadly.
"How dare you threaten my sister right in front of me?"
His voice was colder than the wind outside.
In the past five years, John had walked countless battlefields. He could sense danger with a glance. From the moment he saw this driver's shifty eyes, he knew something was wrong.
That was why he'd asked for a ride.
And now, his instincts were confirmed.
"You've got a death wish, brat!" Sam growled. "I was being generous, letting you watch for free. Back off while you can. I won't warn you again!"
He tried to pull his arm free, but John's fingers were locked tight—unyielding as iron.
Then—
CRACK!
With a bone-snapping twist, John crushed Sam's wrist.
The knife clattered to the floor.
"AAAAARGH!" Sam howled in agony.
He stumbled to unlock the doors and flee, but before he could get far—
Thunk! Thunk!
Two stones, thrown with pinpoint precision, struck his legs like bullets. Sam dropped to the ground with a scream, kneeling in the dirt.
"What… what happened to my legs?!"
Panic overtook him. His entire body trembled uncontrollably as fear swallowed his mind.
"No one bullies my sisters. Not even me," John growled. "You must be insane to lay a hand on my elder sister."
He stomped hard on Sam's already shattered leg.
Another shriek tore through the air—high and sharp like a butchered animal—before Sam passed out from the pain.
Everyone who touches the tail of the tiger… will be eaten.
And John's "tail" was his sisters.
Anyone who dared harm his seven sisters would suffer the wrath of the Oracle King.
If this had been the battlefield, Sam would already be dead.
Queenie stepped out of the car, stunned by everything she had just seen. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes trembled with a mixture of shock and awe.
She stared at John.
"…Who the hell are you?"
Without a word, John turned to her—and suddenly dropped his trousers.
"Sister," he said, pointing. "Look."