Meanwhile, the mood at the Beckett house was unbearably tense.
When Malcolm opened the door, Gordon was sitting in the living room. The ashtray in front of him was full of cigarette butts, and smoke hung thick in the air.
At the sight of his son, Gordon sprang up, snatched the ashtray off the table, and hurled it at him.
It shattered at Malcolm's feet with a sharp crash.
"How dare you?" Gordon charged toward him, his face livid. "She's the daughter of the man behind Fenwick Group, and you toyed with her like a pet? Have you got a brain at all?" He panted, his chest heaving. "I've never stopped you from running wild. But you had to go looking for trouble with the Fenwick family! What is wrong with you? You dated her for 3 years without finding out who she was, and you called her a puppy
