Chapter 2 The Divine Healer Reemerges

• At Gravitas Realty Group, the crystal clear glass door slowly swung open automatically.
• Huxley strode in, his face devoid of any hint of emotion.
• Swish, swish, swish!
• The moment he stepped through the door, the busy employees stopped in their tracks. All of them turned their attention toward him, gossiping and gesturing amongst themselves.
• In the gaze of these dozens of pairs of eyes, a myriad of emotions were bursting forth.
• Some of it was sympathy; some mockery; some contempt; and some indifference.
• Everyone recognized him, for he was the husband of Samara, the woman who had tragically taken her own life by leaping from a building after enduring a horrific rape.
• Consequently, he was one unlucky guy.
• Faced with the numerous piercing glances, Huxley didn't even bat an eyelid as he completely ignored them.
• In his eyes, these people were worthless, not even deserving of his attention.
• He went straight to the male manager at the front desk of the lobby.
• The manager asked somewhat awkwardly, “Mr. Carrington, what can I do for you?”
• Huxley spoke in a commanding tone. “I need all the surveillance footage from the day my wife had an incident.”
• His wife served as the assistant sales manager at the company. Before the incident occurred, she had spent her entire day at work.
• As long as the surveillance records could be obtained, an investigation could reveal what had happened.
• The manager's expression subtly shifted, a hint of regret on his face. “I'm very sorry, Mr. Carrington,” he said. “We had some problems with our system a few days ago, which resulted in the deletion of all surveillance records. I'm really sorry!”
• Huxley's eyes suddenly widened. He scoffed, “Even a three-year-old won't believe such nonsense.”
• How could it be so coincidental? There's no way such crucial evidence can vanish just like that.
• “It's true, Mr. Carrington.” The manager bowed slightly.
• Huxley narrowed his eyes and said, “Give me the hard drive. I'll find someone to recover it myself.”
• With his connections, it was a simple matter for him to call upon a few world-class experts. As long as the hard drive was still intact, recovery was not an issue.
• At the mention of the hard drive, the manager's face turned ashen. He replied hesitantly, “Mr. Carrington, this involves the company's privacy and commercial secrets. I cannot disclose it to you.”
• “Enough of this nonsense!” Huxley had lost his patience, waving his hand dismissively. “Tell your boss to come out here, I want to speak with him directly. I'm curious to see who's been stirring up trouble behind the scenes!”
• Everyone exchanged glances.
• The manager hesitated before saying, “Perhaps we should schedule an appointment first. Would you like to come back another day?”
• Bang!
• Huxley slammed his hand down in anger, the force of it causing the entire marble front desk to quake.
• “Since when do I need to make an appointment just to meet someone? People have always sought appointments with me, never daring to demand that I schedule one with them. I'm giving him three minutes to come out, not a second more, or he'll face the consequences!”
• At that moment, he was desperate to pursue the culprit, no longer suppressing his inherently domineering nature.
• Just as everyone was caught in a dilemma, they suddenly heard someone utter coldly, “Really? I am actually curious to see what would happen if I exceeded the three-minute limit!”
• As the words echoed, two figures emerged from the VIP elevator.
• The one in front was a man in his early thirties, dressed in a suit and polished leather shoes. His hair was slicked back and he wore a gold Rolex watch. His face was pale, evidently a result of excessive indulgence in alcohol and other pleasures, and his eyes carried a certain arrogance.
• Following him was a burly man who looked incredibly sturdy. His muscles seemed ready to burst out of his suit. He wore sunglasses, remained silent, and clutched something hard in his arms—it was likely a gun.
• “Mr. Zimmerman!”
• “Mr. Zimmerman!”
• “Mr. Zimmerman!”
• The staff on site quickly bowed and greeted him in unison.
• The person who arrived was none other than the boss of Gravitas Realty Group. His name was Neil Zimmerman, a recently successful real estate entrepreneur.
• Following closely behind him was a burly man, his personal bodyguard. A former military man, he was skilled in hand-to-hand combat and proficient in various types of firearms. His name was Tyga Langton.
• “Tell me, what do you want from me?” Neil approached cheekily, looking at Huxley as if the latter was a fool.
• “Who instructed you to tamper with the surveillance footage?” Huxley said coldly.
• “What's wrong? Still can't let go of this case? Even the police are at their wits' end.” Neil shrugged, jesting, “Buddy, you should be happy. Your wife's dead, and you've got a million in compensation. Why not find a young, pretty one? Or are you... hoping to squeeze out more compensation?”
• “Don't try to mess with someone you can't afford to, understand?” Huxley retorted.
• “Who do you think you are?” Neil burst into hearty laughter. “Buddy, a million is more than enough. For someone like your wife, that's about the right price. You can't ask for more.”
• This statement struck a chord with the deep-seated pain in Huxley's heart.
• His eyes suddenly turned red.
• In the next moment, he swung his hand forcefully.
• Slap!
• A crisp sound resonated, audible to everyone present.
• Two white teeth were knocked out, landing on the ground.