Son-In-Law Madness Chapter 933 Head Honcho

Donald was thoroughly enjoying his meal when suddenly, someone called out his name.

He turned his head to look at Gilbert, “I am Donald Campbell, what's the matter?”

“So, you're Donald. I've heard you're quite the brash one, aren't you?” Gilbert said as he started to walk
toward Donald.

Fridolin quickly stood up. “Gilbert, there's been a misunderstanding. All of this is a misunderstanding.”

Declan quickly stepped forward to intercept Gilbert, hoping to prevent him from doing anything rash.

“Gilbert, we've already settled things here. Could you please step aside for a moment?”

In a low voice, Declan spoke to Gilbert, hoping to persuade him to step away for a moment.

However, upon hearing these words, Gilbert not only didn't leave. Instead, he pushed Declan away.

He said to Fridolin, “Don't worry, Mr. Goodwin, we're buddies, so your business is my business. You
guys want to talk business, right? Go ahead. I'll just sit here and listen to you guys talk.”

Gilbert pulled up a stool and sat next to Donald, arrogantly saying to him, “Listen here, kid. Ask anyone
in Feston, there's no one who doesn't know my name. You'd better behave yourself in this deal today.
Whatever Mr. Goodwin says, you just listen. Otherwise, I'll make sure you can't walk out of this private
room.”

D*mn, this Gilbert doesn't seem drunk, so why is he barging in and spouting nonsense?



At this point, Fridolin was almost driven mad with anger.

He had already settled everything with Donald, but then Gilbert suddenly interfered. Didn't that just
mess up all his plans?

Just as Fridolin was about to personally go and persuade Gilbert to leave, Donald said with a smile,
“Gilbert Shackleton in Feston, huh?”

“That's right. Why?”

“So, if I don't have a proper conversation today, you won't let me leave this private room?”

“What, you doubt my abilities?”

Donald waved his hands repeatedly, saying, “No, no, no, I certainly don't doubt your abilities. I've
always been someone who respects others' opinions.”

“Since you're the big shot around here, Gilbert, it's only right that I show you some respect. How about I
treat you to a bottle of wine?”

Initially, Gilbert thought that Donald had chickened out. However, upon hearing the latter part of his
statement, he felt that something seemed off.

Isn't it customary to invite someone for a drink one glass at a time? How did it turn into treating myself
to a bottle of wine when I am at Donald's place?



“Kid, what do you mean—”

No sooner had Gilbert finished speaking than Donald suddenly picked up a bottle of wine from the table
and smashed it directly onto his head with a loud crash.

Gilbert didn't react at all. Donald's sudden move completely disoriented him.

A bottle of wine wasn't as fragile as a beer bottle.

The bottom of a wine bottle was thickened. If an average person were to be hit hard with it, there was a
chance they could die on the spot.

It was likely that Gilbert had had his fair share of head knocks over the years, so when the bottle came
down, everyone heard a dull thud. Yet, surprisingly, Gilbert didn't even fall to the ground.

“D*mn it...”

Gilbert clutched his head, his face etched with pain.

Seeing Gilbert being beaten, a few subordinates rushed toward Donald, seeking to avenge Gilbert.

In an unexpected move, Donald got up and took the initiative to greet them.

Every punch and kick from Donald were like a sledgehammer. Any underling who crossed paths with
him ended up with broken arms and legs.

Everyone around was completely stunned.



So, Donald, who was just recently only interested in profit, was a martial arts practitioner?

In less than a minute, all the subordinates brought by Gilbert were writhing and wailing on the ground.

Gilbert also knew that he had encountered a tough nut to crack.

But in front of so many people, it was impossible for Gilbert to beg Donald for mercy.

Without thinking, he reached out to the table, ready to grab a wine bottle or something to retaliate
against Donald.

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