Chapter 666 The Gutierrez Gang
Could it be that Michael's trying to use his charm on her again?
Sorry, Michael.
Celeste wasn't falling for the same trick twice.
"Michael, cut the crap. I see right through you."
She turned to leave, but Michael blocked her path again. "At least tell me why you're hanging out with George."
Celeste paused, giving him a mocking smile. "Figure it out yourself. Aren't you supposed to be all-powerful?"
Michael was taken aback. "Celeste, I know you hate me."
"Hate you?" Celeste chuckled. "Do you even deserve that?" She didn't look at him again and walked straight towards the ambulance. "From now on, we're done. Don't ever show up in front of me again."
Michael watched her determined back, feeling a pain in his heart that even Emma had never caused. He rushed forward. "No! I won't allow it!"
Without turning back, Celeste snapped her fingers. Instantly, several bodyguards in black emerged from the shadows and blocked Michael.
"Mr. Russell, please behave," the lead bodyguard said coldly.
Michael's own bodyguards rushed out, and the two groups faced off tensely.
Not wanting to escalate things, Michael waved his men back. He watched helplessly as Celeste got into the ambulance, the doors closing and cutting off his view.
As the ambulance drove away, Michael stood there, his fists clenched tightly. Celeste's cold eyes and unfamiliar face flashed through his mind, making it hard to breathe.
"Celeste," he murmured, "do you really think I'll let you go?"
He turned and headed back to the hospital, dialing a number. "Find out everything that's happened to Celeste recently. And why she's now Primrose and involved with George."
Michael's team worked quickly. Within half a day, a detailed report was in his hands.
Sitting in his study, Michael's fingers trembled as he flipped through the pages. With each page, his expression grew darker.
After faking her death, Celeste had barely returned to Sunterra when she was targeted by the Gutierrez Gang.
Kirk's men recognized her immediately and ordered her face to be destroyed, making her life a living hell.
Celeste was imprisoned in a basement, enduring inhumane torture, and barely escaped through the sewers, gravely injured and near death.
She emerged from the sewers just as George was caught in an explosion. She saved him, and they were both taken to the hospital.
Her face was so badly damaged that the doctors had to perform extensive reconstructive surgery, completely changing her appearance.
After recovering, she took the name Primrose and stayed by George's side as his most trusted assistant.
Michael slammed the file shut, his eyes burning with rage.
"The Gutierrez Gang," he spat, his knuckles white.
At the top floor of the Gutierrez Group, a helicopter landed on the helipad with a roar.
The door opened, and Michael strode out, his black coat billowing in the wind. Twelve bodyguards in black followed, each with a gun at their waist, eyes sharp as hawks.
"Mr. Russell, Kirk's in his office," the assistant hurried to greet him.
Michael smirked, loosening his tie with his long fingers. "Tell him I'm here."
In the office, Kirk was leisurely sipping red wine. Seeing Michael enter, he raised his glass. "Mr. Russell, what a grand entrance."
Michael walked straight to the main seat and sat down, legs crossed, eyes cold. "Kirk, hand them over."
"Who?" Kirk feigned ignorance.
Michael slammed the table, cracking the solid wood. "Don't play dumb. You messed with my people, now pay the price."
Kirk squinted. "Are you talking about your dear sister Celeste?" He swirled his wine. "Too bad, with her new face, even her own mother wouldn't recognize her."
Michael's eyes turned dangerous. He stood up slowly, each step pressing on Kirk's nerves. "Three hundred million dollars for the Southside project, in exchange for those bastards."
Kirk raised an eyebrow. "All this for a few nobodies? Since when did Mr. Russell become so merciful?"
"Five hundred million," Michael's voice was icy. "And a shipping line."
The room fell silent. Kirk put down his glass, a glint in his eye. "Celeste must be very important to you, Mr. Russell."
"Deal or not?" Michael didn't want to waste time.
Kirk laughed. "Deal! But..." he said meaningfully, "I want to see you deal with them personally."
In the underground warehouse, five men were chained and kneeling in a row. Michael calmly put on black leather gloves, his gaze menacing.
"Do you know why you're here?" he asked softly.
The scar-faced leader looked up. "Mr. Russell, spare us! We were just following orders!"
Michael sneered, taking an iron rod from his men. "Cut the crap. Tell me exactly what you did to Celeste."
As they described how they used acid to destroy Celeste's face and tortured her in the basement, Michael's expression grew darker.
"Good," he nodded, then swung the iron rod down on the scar-faced man's knee.
Screams echoed through the warehouse.
Michael's movements were swift and ruthless, each strike avoiding vital areas. The iron rod was replaced by a whip, then a knife. The warehouse became a scene of hell.
Kirk exhaled a smoke ring, watching Michael through the haze. "Mr. Russell, is she worth all this?"
Michael tossed the bloodied towel aside, his gaze icy. "Kirk, this is your last warning. If you touch Celeste again, I'll erase the Gutierrez Gang from Sunterra."
Kirk laughed heartily, unafraid. "Big words, Mr. Russell." He stood up, facing Michael, their eyes clashing like blades. "Don't forget, this is the Gutierrez Group, my turf. You can't touch me, and I can't touch you. Why waste time with threats?"
Michael smirked. "You can try."
Kirk's smile faded, his tone dark. "Michael, we've been at this for years, neither of us able to win. How about this..." He extended his hand. "From now on, we don't interfere with each other's people. Compete in business as usual, but leave our people out of it. Deal?"
Michael stared at his outstretched hand, then coldly said, "Remember your words." He didn't shake hands, turning and leaving with long strides.
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