The scene of utter devastation before him left Wesley dumbfounded.
After a long while, he finally muttered, "What… fack!"
"Wesley, I'm sorry."
Anne, kneeling on the bed, covered her mouth and nose, weeping bitterly: "I was wrong, I swear this is the last time, there will definitely not be a next time, please forgive me."
Wesley looked at Anne, a hint of unfamiliarity in his eyes, as if he was getting to know his wife all over again.
Gradually, his eyes filled with more emotions.
There was incomprehension, doubt, anger, and murderous intent!
Wesley, expressionless, clenched his fists and slowly said, "Jason, the bar downstairs has your favorite 20-year-old aged Scotch whisky, go try it, you won't be disappointed."
His words were devoid of any emotion, like the calm before a storm.
"OK!"
Jason nodded, picked up his gun, and went downstairs.
The bar next to the dining room was filled with dozens of bottles of fine wine, each priced no less than $1,000.
Jason turned on the dim incandescent light of the bar, searching for his favorite Scotch whisky.
"Whisky, whisky… found it!"
As he took out the bottle opener and opened the bottle, Anne's screams came from upstairs.
Jason paused slightly, then continued with his own business, completely unaffected by the sound.
It had been many years since Wesley had killed anyone; hopefully, his skills hadn't become rusty.
Taking out a whisky glass and retrieving some ice from the refrigerator, Jason sat on the swivel chair at the bar, leisurely savoring the 20-year-old Scotch whisky.
Anne's screams lasted for a long time before finally stopping. Wesley, like a lost soul, slowly walked down from upstairs, his body somewhat stiff as he sat down on the swivel chair.
"The taste is indeed good, try some."
Jason took out an empty glass, poured a quarter of whisky into it, and handed it over.
Wesley rudely snatched the bottle, filled the glass, and then tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.
Thump~
The glass slammed onto the bar.
Wesley squeezed the glass tightly, his head lowered, his eyes closed, his breathing very rapid.
Jason didn't say anything; this kind of thing was something no outsider could help with, he could only get through it himself.
Refilling Wesley's glass, Jason played with his glass while pouring himself another drink.
Half an hour later, the two of them had finished the bottle of whisky.
At this time, Wesley finally calmed down and said, "Jason, I'm sorry, you had to see such an ugly thing."
Jason shook his head slightly and smiled, "No need to apologize, I actually enjoyed watching it."
"FUCK YOU!"
"Shit! That guy is so disgusting." Wesley's mood suddenly relaxed a lot.
The two clinked glasses and finished the last sip of whisky in their glasses.
Putting down his glass, Wesley's expression became serious: "What the hell did you do, you bastard? This is the first time I've seen Kingpin so angry."
"A little thing."
"What little thing?"
Jason looked down, admiring the glass, and said lightly, "I slept with Vanessa."
Wesley was completely stunned.
"What? You call that a little thing? Good God."
Jason waved his hand impatiently: "Don't worry about it, I only came today to ask, how did Kingpin find out about me and Vanessa?"
Wesley shook his head: "Kingpin didn't tell me anything, not even about Vanessa. He only told me that you betrayed the gang and asked me to notify all the gangs in New York to put a bounty on your head."
Jason smiled faintly. He had long been mentally prepared for the bounty on his head; otherwise, he wouldn't have changed his phone and even disguised himself when going out.
"What's the price?"
"$1 million for dead, $3 million for alive!"
"Wow! Big spender." Jason smiled: "Can I turn myself in?"
"I would very much welcome it."
Wesley stood up, straightened his suit, and prepared to go upstairs: "I still have a mess to deal with, you can leave, just pretend I didn't see you tonight."
"Wesley!"
Jason smiled, put down his glass, and pulled out the Glock pistol hidden in his clothes, aiming it at him.
"You're not going anywhere without giving me an answer, or you can try to kill me with your Beretta 92."
Wesley's expression was somewhat surprised; the hand that had just touched the gun stopped instantly.
Under the dim light, the two men, one standing and one sitting, stared at each other, each holding a pistol in their hand.
After a few seconds of stalemate, Wesley gave up.
He released his hand and roared: "Jason, I told you, I don't know anything, Kingpin didn't tell me the truth."
Jason smiled disdainfully, thinking that Wesley was indeed Kingpin's beloved disciple, perfectly inheriting Kingpin's ideology.
From the very beginning of forming the gang, Kingpin had set a small goal for himself.
To rule all the gangs in New York, and through strict control and restraint of his subordinates, to create a perfect city without killing, robbery, or violent crime.
Kingpin had once told Jason about his ideals; Jason smiled and agreed on the surface, but was very dismissive in his heart.
Jason stared into Wesley's eyes and said seriously: "Wesley, do you really believe Kingpin's rhetoric? It's ridiculous!"
"Evil is evil, good is good, don't always try to put gold on your own face. As long as scum like us are still alive in this world, New York will never be stable."
Wesley retorted: "The crime rate in Hell's Kitchen under Kingpin's rule is lower than at any time in the past, doesn't that prove something?"