King-In-Law, The Hidden God Of War!

012

Vera and Victor had barely left the hospital when the VIP ward hallway grew quieter, the only sounds the measured steps of a few nurses passing by and the steady hum of medical equipment from the patient rooms.

Sophia stood by a bench along the wall, her eyes fixed in the direction her daughter had been wheeled away, her face drawn with fatigue and tension. Raymond stood silently beside her, his gaze steady but deep, as though holding a thousand unspoken thoughts.

Suddenly, the heavy, urgent thud of leather shoes striking tile echoed sharply.

A group of three appeared at the far end of the hallway, led by a tall, broad-shouldered middle-aged man with graying hair and eyes as sharp as blades, Lewin Thompson, Dante’s elder brother and Sophia’s paternal uncle.

Following right behind was his son Wilmer, his face dark and his eyes bloodshot as if he had swallowed a lump of rage. Bringing up the rear was Dante, looking reluctant to be there at all.

Before they even reached her, Lewin’s voice cut through the quiet, hard enough to dominate the space:

“Sophia! Do you even know what you’ve done? The contract with the Grant family is officially canceled, the Thompson family’s multi-million project is as good as gone. Are you planning to ruin the entire clan for some runaway soldier?”

Startled, Sophia jumped to her feet, but before she could speak, Wilmer stepped forward, jabbing a finger toward her face, his tone sharp enough to slice:

“You call Victor right now, get on your knees, and beg him to reinstate the contract. If you don’t, I swear it won’t just be you, your parents will be out on the street begging for scraps.”

Raymond tilted his head slightly, his eyes already cooling, but he remained silent. Victor hadn’t been gone long; clearly, he’d wasted no time having the Thompsons’ contract voided and was now pulling strings from the shadows.

Sophia tried to keep her composure, speaking softly: “Anna is in the operating room right now, please, both of you: “

“Anna?” Lewin cut her off with a sneer: “That child’s life or death means nothing compared to the honor and fortune of the entire family. Stop the surgery immediately. It doesn’t happen unless Young Master Grant says so.”

Before the words were fully out, Wilmer was already moving toward the surgical ward doors.

A few startled nurses rushed to block him, explaining the operation was in progress and couldn’t be stopped, but he barked over them:

“Are you deaf? I said stop it! Bring the girl out here now!”

Sophia’s face went white. She rushed to step in front of Wilmer: “Enough! This is a hospital, not a place for you to: “

“Move!” Wilmer shoved her arm hard, sending her stumbling back, nearly falling.

In that instant, Raymond moved. His hand clamped down on Wilmer’s shoulder, yanking him back before driving a fist square into his chest. The impact landed with a dull thud, and Wilmer was sent sprawling nearly three meters back, his spine slamming into the wall before he slid to the floor, gasping for breath.

Lewin’s eyes blazed as he stepped forward, ready to roar, but Raymond turned on him, delivering a swift kick to the side of his thigh. The blow was lightning-quick, powerful enough to make Lewin stagger and grab at the wall for balance.

Raymond straightened, his voice deep and cold, carrying down the hall: “This is a hospital. Anyone else looking to cause trouble… take a step forward and try.”

A nurse peeked timidly from behind a counter, swallowing hard at the look in Raymond’s eyes, a gaze that didn’t need to shout to make even the most aggressive man think twice. But unlike the usual rabble, Lewin’s face flushed crimson, his chest heaving, veins standing out at his temples.

“You bastard…” Lewin’s words came through clenched teeth, his glare like sparks thrown on dry tinder: “Do you know what you’ve just done? Since when does some lowlife live-in son-in-law dare lay hands on his wife’s uncle? Who the hell do you think you are?”

His voice carried through the corridor, drawing a few patients out of their rooms to watch, whispering among themselves.

Still clutching his chest and struggling for air, Wilmer pushed himself upright, staggering toward his father, hatred burning in his features: “Dad… don’t waste words on him. Call the boys, take him down right here.”

Lewin flicked his eyes toward his son, his gaze darkening before he returned it to Raymond with undisguised contempt: “Do you even know whose word carries weight in this family? I’ve held back from meddling in Dante’s household trash for years out of respect. That’s why I didn’t bother showing up the day Sophia got engaged. Frankly, the Dante side isn’t worth my time.”

He took a step forward, voice rising and cutting sharper: “If I had been there that day, you’d never have pulled your little stunt to wreck the banquet in front of the Grants. I would have crushed the idea the moment it flickered in your brain.”

Lewin’s anger was about more than being struck. He drew in a breath, as if to rein it in, but his words still hissed through his teeth:

“You think that multi-million-dollar contract with the Grants fell from the sky? I worked to arrange it, to funnel all those benefits to me and this family. And now, because of one foolish girl who wouldn’t obey, everything is gone. Don’t think you’ll walk away unscathed.”

Wilmer, emboldened, nodded eagerly: “Dad, he has to pay. Let me call the boys, and we’ll see how long he keeps that smug face.” He pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling with excitement and rage.

Lewin waved him off, his eyes locked on Raymond, his voice lowering but heavy with threat: “No rush. I want everyone in this hospital to see. I want them to know who has the final say in this family. You want to defy all of us? You’re nothing but an outsider, a nobody. Don’t think a few cheap tricks at that matchmaking farce put you anywhere near my level.”

With that, he turned abruptly toward Dante, his gaze blazing. Without warning, his large hand lashed out, slapping Dante across the face with a loud c***k that froze the hallway.

Dante staggered, bracing against the wall to keep from falling, his cheek burning with the imprint of Lewin’s hand. He barely had time to catch his breath before Lewin’s voice cracked through the air like a whip:

“What are you standing there for? They’re in there operating on the child of this piece of trash. Stop it! Tell your brainless daughter to halt it right now, do you hear me?”

The hall seemed to hold its breath. The watching patients gawked, whispering to each other.

Beside Lewin, Wilmer’s lips curled into a triumphant smirk, as if the victory was already his.

Dante lifted his head, his expression torn with hesitation and discomfort. As Sophia’s father, he knew Anna was his daughter’s very life, but years of living under Lewin’s dominance made his throat feel like stone.

Sophia stepped forward halfway, her voice shaking with fury: “Uncle, she’s my daughter, your own niece. You… you can’t: “

“Silence!” Lewin snapped, his eyes blazing hot enough to burn: “Don’t throw the word ‘niece’ at me here. From this moment on, if you or your daughter stay tied to this man, I’ll consider the both of you dead to this family.”

Down the corridor, a few nurses exchanged uneasy glances.

This was chaos beyond anything they could handle themselves. One quietly slipped back toward the duty desk, her trembling hand already reaching for the intercom, ready to call for help if things spiraled completely out of control.