Nicole nestled obediently in Howard Yeats’ arms, her small hands wrapped around his neck like a daughter. Howard Yeats smiled at Ivy Linden, his eyebrows deliberately raised, as if saying: Look, your daughter really likes me! Why not let her stay with me in the future! His expression was so teasing that Ivy Linden’s cheeks grew hot, and she couldn’t bring herself to snatch Nicole back from his hands, so she turned her gaze away. "Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one..." The woman counted more and more excitedly; within half a minute, she had made hundreds of thousands, like a windfall from the sky. The woman felt a bit guilty at first, because she was getting lighter with the slaps, but the man paying hadn’t said anything. She secretly rejoiced, initially thinking she’d stop after making a million; now she felt she could make ten million. Official source ıs 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹•𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖•𝗇𝗲𝘁 About five minutes passed. The woman’s hand was sore from slapping, yet she didn’t plan to stop. At this point, both the girl and the woman were envious, especially the girl, hearing the woman count to five hundred and thirty-two. Her heart raced; just how rich was this man? Already over five million, yet he showed no sign of stopping, his expression unchanged, not a frown. Could this man be a billionaire? "Alright, alright, wife, stop hitting our son." At over six hundred slaps, the man spoke, because the fat boy’s face was gradually turning red; the woman wasn’t hitting hard, but even gentle slaps over six hundred times were too much for a child’s tender face! "What’s it to you? Jarvis, get lost," the woman shouted loudly without even looking at the man. The man was rebuffed, stunned for a few seconds; he saw tears in his son’s eyes and felt heartache, his voice softened, "Wife, look at our son’s face, it’s almost bleeding from your slapping, just stop. He might be lying to you, might not give you the money; over six million is a fortune! Who’s that foolish to give you so much money?" Hearing this, the woman felt a pang in her heart; if the man was deceiving her, her son endured the punishment for nothing. The woman was about to stop. Howard Yeats casually kicked over the box beside him, and bundles of hundred-dollar bills toppled to the ground: "I, Howard Yeats, stick to my word; this box has twelve million. You reach nine hundred slaps, and this twelve million is yours." The surrounding area was instantly filled with the sound of gasping. Twelve million, what a fortune! The people of their town had never seen so much money in their lifetime. The woman gazed at the money on the ground, a greedy smile on her face; she seemed to have reached nearly seven hundred slaps already, just about two hundred left, and at most five minutes, Kenny could endure. Seeing the greedy expression on the woman’s face made Ivy Linden nauseous, and seeing the fat boy’s reddened face filled her with pity; although the fat boy was despicable, without a mother woman, he wouldn’t be so arrogant and rude. "Forget it?" Howard Yeats laughed; the wildcat’s conscience was too good: "I respect your opinion, but just because you want to forget it doesn’t mean others do." "We can’t forget it; your husband agreed, everyone heard, I absolutely won’t allow you to just forget it now," the woman hurriedly said. What kind of joke is this? A windfall falling into her mouth, how could it just fly away? Howard Yeats shrugged helplessly. Ivy Linden looked down on the woman: "He’s not your own flesh and blood? For this little money, you’re hitting him now; aren’t you afraid when you grow old, he’ll also use violence for benefits against you?" The woman felt Ivy Linden was blocking her fortune: "No matter what you say, it doesn’t matter; today, your husband’s twelve million, I’m determined to get." Ivy Linden was speechless. The fat boy’s cheeks started aching but he’d already heard the woman’s words. The woman raised her hand again to hit the fat boy. Howard Yeats spoke softly: "Wait a moment." "Sir, you can’t go back on your word." "Don’t worry, I won’t go back on my word; but your whole family seems to have forgotten to do one thing—kneel down and apologize to my wife and child." Without thinking, the woman knelt in front of Ivy Linden with a thud, slapped herself twice: "My eyes were blind, madam and little princess, please don’t take it to heart." Ivy Linden pursed her lips, saying nothing; this apology for money made her feel disgusted. Howard Yeats wasn’t disgusted, whether Ivy Linden liked it or not, he had to do it because it’s what the woman’s whole family owed Ivy Linden and Nicole. "Is it just you left in your family?" Howard Yeats retorted. The woman wasn’t angry, turned to see the fat boy and her man yet to kneel; she reached out to drag the fat boy: "Kenny, kneel down." The fat boy was reluctant but knelt down nonetheless. The man didn’t want to kneel. The woman shouted angrily at him. The man was agitated; his wife hitting their son, dragging him to kneel apologizing to others wasn’t shameful enough? And dragging him along too? In front of the crowd, the man couldn’t bear to do something so humiliating, or he’d become the town’s joke. "Jarvis, I told you to kneel down, you’re not listening to me?" The woman was particularly angry; this useless Jarvis, marrying him meant a hard life, now, when a fortune is right there, he wants to mess with her? The man shuddered, instinctively stepping back. The woman saw this, stood up, hurriedly approached the man, grabbed his ear and shouted: "I told you to kneel, are you deaf?" The man’s legs went weak. The people around laughed upon seeing. "Jarvis, you’re a man, kneeling on a washboard at home is one thing, kneeling outside is another, you’ve lost the face of a man." "Hah, I look down on you, Jarvis the useless." "Oh, don’t scorn him, he’s afraid of his wife, we should understand." "Hahaha... understand, understand, the town’s number one soft-hearted man." The man kneeling on the ground felt extreme humiliation, gradually clenching his fingers. The woman yelled angrily at the crowd: "Get lost, you’re all just jealous; twelve million good luck fell into my lap, none for you, you garbage." The crowd was indeed jealous, and hearing the woman’s insults, they began cursing back. "Too noisy." Howard Yeats knitted his brows. Two men in black suits pulled out guns, aimed at the crowd, instantly quieting the environment. The woman turned pale and knelt obediently. Howard Yeats said to the woman: "You and your son have rested for a while, continue hitting!" The woman’s heart was delighted. Howard Yeats continued: "Before, those seven hundred slaps, you were just fooling me, I won’t argue with you, but the last two hundred slaps, I want to hear them; no sound, and the previous ones are void."