CHAPTER 133: CHAPTER 133 KING OF HELL

Upon hearing this, William Foster’s lips curled into a slight smile.

With a deliberately smug expression, he turned to Arthur Davis and asked, "Arthur, how do you think Young Madam is feeling right now?"

There seemed to be a hint of mischief in his voice.

Arthur had already heard about the incident; someone harassed Clara Bennett yesterday and got a lesson today.

He also heard that the Young Madam’s tongue was so sharp that anyone who crossed her would surely end up unlucky.

So he replied, "The Young Madam should be very happy, right? Those troublemakers got what was coming to them, at least it’s one less headache."

William Foster shook his head, looking even more smug, "You don’t understand her; she’s actually in a bad mood now."

He explained to Arthur Davis.

Arthur Davis looked at him in confusion, eyes filled with puzzlement, "I don’t understand, how can that be?"

Clearly, he didn’t completely understand the reason.

William Foster slowly said, "Although she only said one sentence, ’I was going to handle it myself,’ that sentence is the key to the whole matter. It’s all my fault, I forgot about her competitive nature."

His tone revealed a hint of self-reproach, feeling a bit regretful for overlooking this.

He very much hated anyone who harbored ill intentions toward his wife, but at the same time, he overlooked one fact.

His little wife wasn’t someone to be underestimated either; once provoked, she would surely retaliate fiercely.

Given the situation, William Foster could only start thinking about how to comfort his still-angry little wife.

After a quick thought in his head, he said a few words to Arthur Davis beside him, then waited for him to leave the room.

Immediately afterward, William Foster purposely sent Clara Bennett a message: [Clara, don’t worry about that person for now. Something suddenly came up here and I need to tell you about it urgently.]

He hoped to use this diversion method to temporarily make her forget her unhappy feelings.

Clara Bennett, initially extremely angry about not being able to handle that disgusting man herself, immediately perked up when she saw William Foster’s message indicating he might need help, quickly dialing his number to understand the situation and offer any necessary assistance.

William Foster coughed lightly twice, carefully lowering his usually firm tone before answering the call, "Little wife..."

Clara Bennett’s voice was filled with concern: "What’s wrong? Are your uncles bullying you?"

William Foster’s voice became suddenly serious upon hearing Clara’s voice, his gaze involuntarily softened a bit.

"It’s about Mr. Foster; it can’t really be considered bullying me. Mr. Foster mentioned that ever since they arrived, you haven’t greeted them, and they think you... do not understand manners."

Clara Bennett snorted coldly, her tone filled with dissatisfaction and sarcasm: "Aren’t they just looking for faults, creating trouble for me?"

William Foster attempted to ease the situation, his voice full of apology, "I blocked those remarks for you, explaining that you are currently busy dealing with some urgent matters. But this, in turn, made them even more upset, thinking I’m relying on your favor and getting arrogant, not considering them anymore. I’m afraid on the day of our wedding, when it’s time to serve you tea, they’ll try to give you trouble."

Hearing her husband’s description of the upcoming situation, Clara Bennett immediately grew alert and eagerly asked, "You said they think you’ve become arrogant? What happened afterward? Did they take any excessive or offensive actions or words against you?"

Feeling Clara’s concern for his safety beyond the phone, William Foster, who’s already in a heavy mood, nearly couldn’t resist fabricating a lie to comfort her.

But noticing with his peripheral vision that Mr. Foster was walking over, he had to swallow back the words at the tip of his tongue.

Taking a deep breath, a faint sense of loss welled up in him: "Don’t worry, they haven’t done anything to me. After all, we are about to become husband and wife. Even with more opinions or dissatisfactions, they should hold back at this moment."

Mr. Foster, after overhearing this part of the conversation, looked at his nephew with a face full of doubt: "???"

Silently thinking: Fighting?

When have we ever slapped you or lifted a finger against you?

Stop misleading people with such words, please?

Actually, as long as you don’t create problems for us, we’ll already be thankful!

Just as he planned to continue investigating what exactly happened, a slightly older voice came through the phone receiver: "William, who are you talking to?"

"Oh dear Mr. Foster, why did you happen to walk over at this time?"

William Foster instinctively started looking for excuses to escape the awkward situation in front of him.

"Oh, I was discussing some private issues with a friend."

Mr. Foster was obviously not fooled by this excuse and asked, "Stop playing tricks with me, will you! Do you think I can’t tell? Obviously, you’re chatting with your future wife, right!"

"Perfect, let her come over tonight too. Since the entire family is gathered, as the future daughter-in-law, she hasn’t even shown her face or greeted us, what kind of behavior is that! Young people these days are increasingly clueless about how to conduct themselves in social situations!"

William Foster: "The wedding is the day after tomorrow, and according to tradition, the bride is not supposed to see the groom before the wedding; it’s a custom passed down from ancestors."

This sentence carried a subtle seriousness, as if he was trying to uphold some traditional dignity.

Mr. Foster: "Hah, traditions? You secretly registered the marriage without us knowing, and yet you still mention tradition?"

The tone was unmistakably sarcastic, "How was that girl raised by her family? She’s marrying into a family without even meeting the groom’s parents, what kind of background can she have—"

His words were filled with unspoken dissatisfaction questioning William Foster’s decision, as if every word dripped with disdain and contempt.

"Enough!"

William Foster’s voice was cold as frost, rarely interrupting a elder’s words, "Mr. Foster, you’re an elder, I won’t argue with you, but please don’t insult my wife."

This brief and firm statement was imbued with his deep protective instinct for his other half and his refusal to let others question it.

Mr. Foster started sweating, waving his hands with a face full of reluctance: I can’t play this part!

He’s always been in awe of William, after all, the title ’King of Hell’ wasn’t given without reason.

Even as family, facing such an imposing presence he still couldn’t help but feel scared.

William Foster glanced encouragingly at Mr. Foster, his eyes revealed a complex emotion, as if silently saying: Hang in there, Mr. Foster, you can do it!

This encouragement seemed to both energize the opponent and challenge his psychological limit.