The rich girl’s backer rushed over, only to freeze in shock when he recognized us. He dropped to his knees immediately.
“Mr. Hayes… Mr. Miller… Mrs. Carter… all of you here…?”
…
The phone rang while I was playing chess with George. He had taken back his moves three times, and I was just about to tease him for it.
But when I saw Michael’s name flash on the screen, my heart tightened. Michael was a sensible boy; he knew our routines and would never call at this hour—unless something was wrong.
I answered. A weak, suppressed voice came through the receiver.
“Grandpa… could you come outside? Right at the gate…”
His voice broke off, mixed with the loud curses of strangers.
I gripped the phone tightly, dread rising in my chest. George noticed my expression, and the humor vanished from his face.
“Edward, what happened?”
I didn’t answer. I stood up and strode outside.
The moment I pushed open the rusty iron gate, I saw Michael surrounded by a group of young people. He was wearing his delivery uniform, curled up on the ground, with a clear handprint across his face and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
A heavily made-up girl in a skimpy outfit was pointing at his nose and shouting,