“That old man came out of that broken-down place—looks like a lonely geezer with nobody to care for him.”

Since Michael hadn’t suffered life-threatening injuries, I hadn’t wanted to argue with these young people. But their words were far too insulting.

“Young people, watch your tongues. There must be some misunderstanding. My grandson would never spy on you.”

“Misunderstanding?” the girl sneered.

“He pointed his phone under my skirt, and you call that a misunderstanding? Old man, stop pretending. Make your grandson kneel down and apologize right now!”

I kept my temper under control, though my voice turned cold.

“Words have consequences. You had no evidence, yet you beat my grandson and now demand he kneel? Where’s your sense of justice?”

Jason Coleman snorted and stepped forward, jabbing his finger into my chest.

“Justice? With you? Do you think you deserve it, old man?”

“This isn’t over today. Your grandson will kneel and kowtow to me and Samantha Lee, and then pay us a hundred thousand dollars for emotional distress. Otherwise, I’ll see both of you carried into that ‘graveyard for the living’ you call a home.”

“One hundred thousand?” I laughed bitterly.

I had faced bullets and shells all my life, but never had I seen such brazen shamelessness.

Michael quickly moved in front of me, whispering, “Grandpa, let’s call the police.”

“Call the police?” one of Jason’s thugs burst out laughing.

“Go ahead! Let’s see whose side the cops take—yours, or Jason’s!”

As he spoke, he kicked Michael’s delivery bag so hard the spilled soup splattered all over Michael’s pants.

“A worthless delivery boy dares to argue with us? Do you know who Jason’s father is? Saying his name would scare you half to death!”

I didn’t bother arguing. I pulled out my old flip phone to call for help.

Jason lunged forward, snatching it from my hand and smashing it to the ground. It shattered into pieces.

“Old fool! Still trying to call someone? I told you—no one can save you today!”

He shoved me hard. My aging body staggered backward, slamming against the car.

“Grandpa!” Michael cried, trying to help me up, but two thugs grabbed him, yanking his hair and kicking the back of his knees until he collapsed with a scream.

“You punk, still trying to help?” Samantha’s eyes flashed with cruelty as she raised her hand to slap him again.

“Stop!” I shouted desperately.

In that moment, Samantha’s gaze fell on the locket hanging from Michael’s neck, and her eyes glinted with mockery.

“Well, well… this little trinket looks interesting.”

It was his grandmother’s heirloom pendant. She reached for it.

“Don’t touch it!” Michael cried.

“What could a poor boy like you possibly have that’s worth anything? Probably just a cheap piece of glass from a flea market.”

Her lips curled in disdain, but her hand didn’t stop. She yanked it off his neck, the string scraping his skin red.

“Give it back!”

Michael struggled fiercely, but the others pinned him down, grinding his hands against the pavement.

Samantha dangled the pendant in front of him, smirking.

“This piece of junk? Fine, take it back—it’s filthy anyway.”

She tossed it onto the ground and wiped her hands with a tissue.

That pendant had been my late wife’s most cherished possession. Before she died, she gave it to Michael, saying she hoped it would protect him for the rest of his life.

Thankfully, the pendant hadn’t broken.

Ignoring the pain in my back, I summoned every ounce of restraint and said coldly,

“Pick it up.”

Samantha sneered.

“A piece of trash? I’ll crush it instead. What can you do about it?”

The more I spoke, the more defiant she became. She raised her high heel and brought it down.

Crack.

The sound of shattering tore through the air—and with it, my fury erupted.

“You’ve gone too far. You’re courting death!”

Jason blinked in surprise, then burst into arrogant laughter.

“Death? From you? Old man, you must be senile! You think you can threaten me?”

“Apologize,” I demanded.

Jason and Samantha exchanged glances, then doubled over laughing.

“Apologize? To you? Do you even know who I am?”

Jason jabbed his finger at my face, spittle flying.

“My father is Richard Coleman! Ever heard of Coleman Enterprises? He controls the entire city’s economy in his hands! You want me to apologize? I’ll make sure you don’t live to see tonight’s sunset!”

I could take no more. I moved to teach this arrogant brat a lesson, but my injured back slowed me down.

“Old fool, you dare fight back?” Jason kicked me hard in the knee.

I gasped, collapsing onto one knee. Agonizing pain shot through my bones.

Then they started raining blows on both me and Michael.

Onlookers gathered, but no one dared step in when they saw the Maserati and Jason’s swagger.

Michael shielded me with his body, taking most of the beating.

“Don’t hurt my grandpa! If you want to hit someone, hit me!”

I had endured countless scars in my life without flinching. But watching my grandson suffer for me left me seething with helpless rage.

Finally, Jason grew tired and planted his foot on my back.

“Now you’re scared, aren’t you? Here’s your last chance—kneel, kowtow, and pay up! Otherwise, I’ll kill both of you right here!”

Samantha pulled out her phone and started livestreaming.

“Everyone, take a look at these two shameless old liars. Tried to take dirty pictures and then attacked us—we’re just defending ourselves!”

The camera zoomed in on our battered faces, and a flood of vile comments poured in.

I felt my blood boil as I stared at the screen.

“Stop now, and I might spare your family. But if you dare lay another finger on my grandson, I swear your family will disappear from Los Angeles.”

Jason froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“You’ve lost your mind, old man. Threaten me? Watch this. You said not to touch his fingers? Then I’ll crush every single one of them!”

He kicked me down again, then ordered his thugs to pin Michael’s hands to the ground.

“Watch closely, old man!” Jason stomped down on Michael’s fingers.

Not satisfied, he had Samantha and the others join in, grinding his hand until it was a bloody mess.

“This is what happens when you mess with my girlfriend!”

“No!” I tried to crawl forward, but the searing pain in my knee left me immobile.

Michael’s screams grew weaker, his face pale as paper.

Only when his hand was mangled beyond recognition did Jason finally step back, satisfied.

Then Jason Coleman pulled a thick wad of red banknotes from his wallet and tossed them in our faces with disdain.

“Here, take it. Medical bills. Spend it carefully—should be enough to keep you two beggars alive for the rest of your miserable lives.”

Samantha Lee giggled, leaning sweetly against his chest, her phone camera still pointed at us.

“Jason, you’re so generous—actually giving them money.”

I looked at Michael Hayes’s mangled hand and the pain on his face, and my killing intent could no longer be contained.

Just then, the old iron gate of the veterans’ retirement home creaked open.

Out came George Miller, leaning on his cane, and Helen Carter, carrying her watering can. Behind them followed several other elderly residents, all dressed plainly.

George’s sharp gaze swept over the scene of chaos, finally fixing on Michael’s bloodied hand.

“Edward! Michael!”

Helen rushed forward, crouching to gently cradle Michael’s hand in her palms.

“Don’t be afraid, Michael. I’m here.”

Jason grew impatient at the sight of this procession. He sneered.

“What is this, a group scam? Did the whole nursing home come out to extort me? Lucky for you, I’m in a good mood today. Get lost while you can.”

George ignored him. Instead, he turned to an elderly man in glasses.

“Robert, call a doctor from Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.”

Jason’s sneer widened.

“Oh, Walter Reed, huh? Why don’t you just say the White House next?”

Samantha laughed so hard she nearly doubled over.

“What is this place—a collection center for America’s elderly trash?”

Helen set down her watering can. Once a famously tough “iron lady” in the Army, her fiery temper flared, her expression dark enough to drip blood.

“Watch your mouth, young lady. This home is not something you’re qualified to judge.”

“Well, aren’t you bold? Old hag, if you don’t stay out of this, I’ll hit you too!”

Jason raised his hand, ready to shove Helen. But George’s cane intercepted first, blocking him.

“So this is how Richard Coleman taught you to speak to your elders?”

Hearing his father’s name from the mouth of a stranger, Jason froze.

“You… you know my dad?”

George didn’t bother answering him. Instead, he turned to the back.

“David, call his family. Tell his father to come pick him up.”

Jason snatched out his own phone before David could dial.

“Call him? Great idea! I’ll call my dad myself. He’ll bring men here and flatten this dump!”

He quickly dialed.

“Dad! I was attacked! Right outside that old veterans’ home in the suburbs! Bring people—lots of them! There’s a bunch of decrepit old fools throwing their weight around!”

On the other end, Richard Coleman’s voice sounded annoyed.

“What trouble have you stirred up now? Fine, I’ll be there soon!”

Jason hung up, looking even more smug.

Samantha, sensing something was off, tugged on his sleeve.

“Jason, maybe… maybe we should just let it go. I wasn’t even filmed—let’s not make this worse.”

“Let it go? No way! If I don’t break these old men’s bones today, my name isn’t Jason Coleman!”

He pointed at me.

“Old man, kneel right now and beg me. Maybe when my dad gets here, I’ll let him go easy on you.”

Then he jabbed a finger at Michael.

“And you—when my dad shows up, I’ll have him gouge out your eyes and cut you down so you’ll never dare look at Samantha again!”

At the guard post by the gate, a young soldier had already picked up the internal line to report the situation to higher authorities.