She Became Rich After Divorce

Chapter 703: I Never Touched Her

He thought Selah wouldn't stoop so low as to pick just any man. But when he laid eyes on George, the suppressed anger burst forth.

The middle-aged man before Channing had a protruding belly, only a few sparse strands of hair floating above his head, a flabby physique, and a lecherous countenance. He was drunk, holding a gorgeously made-up young woman in his arms, his pudgy hands constantly caressing her exposed shoulders.

Under the cover of darkness, a look of disgust flashed in the woman's eyes. She pretended to be tender and leaned against the man's shoulder with a lazy demeanor.

"Sweetheart, I think someone up ahead is staring at you. Do you know him?"

"What? Where is he?"

As soon as George opened his mouth, a strong stench of alcohol wafted over. He drunkenly pointed at the man before him, his slurred voice ringing out, "Who are you?" "George."

Without hesitation, the man clenched his teeth and marched forward, swinging his fist towards George's face.

George was caught off guard and let out a painful scream, feeling a stinging sensation on his nose as if it had been cut.

Before he could react, he instinctively reached up, feeling a sticky warmth on his fingertips-blood!

"Oh, goodness!"

George, who had been swaggering around Akloit for half a lifetime without encountering any trouble, had now been punched shortly after arriving in Onistead.

However, George wasn't the type to be bullied. If he was hit, he would hit back, right?

Standing up and wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand, he glared fiercely at the dark figure, the drunkenness in his eyes subsiding.

"You're courting death, daring to hit me! Do you know who I am?"

A cold wind blew, causing the black cloak on the man's head to flutter slightly, revealing a strikingly handsome face. The short green beard added a touch of mature male charm to him. He appeared as a messenger walking in the dark night, exuding an extraordinary aura of dark power.

George lost half his courage without even making a move. His tightly clenched fist involuntarily relaxed, then clenched again, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, displaying his current unease. "Since you're looking for trouble, don't blame me, George! I've lived to the age of fifty-five and have never been hit. You dare to hit me!"

With that, he grabbed a rusty iron rod from the wall and charged towards the man, aiming for his head.

Undoubtedly, this was a genuine iron rod.

With a blow like that, the man's brains would probably splatter on the spot. The woman, who could already anticipate the horrific scene, pressed her body against the wall, trembling with fear and emitting a sharp scream.

"Ah!"

She closed her eyes to avoid witnessing the imminent bloodshed, hoping to avoid leaving a terrible memory in her mind.

However, what happened was completely different from what she had expected. Instead, there came a series of familiar and intense screams.

"Ouch!"

"It hurts so much... Stop hitting me, or I'll kill you!"

"Ouch, yeah, sorry, man. I messed up, I really know I messed up.'

She slowly opened her eyes and focused on the scene. Turned out George was getting beaten up and howling!

Just a moment ago, he was threatening to kill the other person, and now he was being beaten to the ground and begging for mercy without a hint of dignity.

The woman, seeing all this, crossed her arms and let out a mocking chuckle.

George's glasses were shattered and scattered on the ground. With his severe myopia, he could only kneel and carefully search for his glasses, all the while casting furtive glances at the man. So tall!Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

All that met her eyes were a pair of long, sturdy legs wrapped in black suit pants, exuding an aura of restraint.

Looking up, his face under the dim

yellow streetlight revealed an

unhealthy pallor, as if it hadn't been exposed to sunlight for years. The veins stood out prominently ear the temples.

Sharp, slightly upturned eyes emitted a fierce glint, like an eagle circling in the sky, staring at George with sharpness. "How did Selah die?"

"What Selah?"

He was first stunned for a second, subconsciously throwing back a question, before something seemed to click.

Scenes of long-forgotten memories flickered through his mind. A hint of guilt and fear flashed across his face as he lowered his head, attempting to conceal it.

'He had actually forgotten who Selah was?' Channing thought angrily.

Channing felt his suppressed anger about to erupt uncontrollably. Once again, he raised his fist and aimed it at George's face.

"How dare you ask me who Selah is? How could she choose trash like you!"

"Since you treated her so badly, why did you marry her?"

"How dare you mistreat her! How could you!"

He seemed to have gone mad, a crimson fury burning in his eyes, giving off a murderous vibe.

George was frightened by the beating. He repeatedly pleaded, "I was wrong, I really didn't mean for her to die, it's not my fault."

"I never touched her, the child isn't mine, I just wanted her money."

"Please stop hitting me, I'll return her property to you."

Wha... what?

He said he never touched Selah?

The child wasn't his, so the child...

Channing remembered the tiny pendant on Cheyenne's ankle and couldn't help but think of her resemblance to Selah. Slowly, a possibility formed in his mind. Relaxing his fist, he threw George to the ground and walked away.

The solitary and resolute figure seemed to tread through the night with a sense of loneliness, leaving a bittersweet ache in the onlookers' eyes.

He left decisively, without the slightest hesitation.

It seemed he wouldn't be coming back.

George finally breathed a sigh of relief. His whole body ached, especially his stinging cheek.

One hand pressed against his face,

the other bracing against the wall, he attempted to stand up slowly, but with his nearly 200-pound weight, it was no easy feat to pull himself up.

He squatted back down with a groan.

Catching a glimpse of the woman still standing in a daze nearby, George couldn't contain his anger and snapped, "What are you standing there for? Can't you see? Come and help me up."

"Coming, coming."

Jane just pressed the stop button on the recorder and hurried over in her high heels all the way.