Mr. Jobav had a premonition that Lance would act.
If he really had the guts to overturn the table and quit playing, he wouldn’t have been extorted of hundreds of thousands by people back and forth without doing anything.
He always wanted to avoid being involved in these troubles, then sneak into high society, and afterward think about reclaiming what he lost during his rise.
But he ignored one thing: the federal high society will always belong only to federals, not outsiders, not immigrants.
No matter how they talk, you can see from how many first- or second-generation immigrants there are in the Senate.
And think about how many immigrants have become federal presidents, and you’ll understand.
They always loudly shout “everyone is equal,” but they practice inequality.
It’s actually like fishing: if you don’t bait the spot, how can you attract fish?
And once the fish are attracted, as the angler, you don’t plan to be friends with the fish—you just want to feed it to catch it.
The federal high society is the same.
The more Mr. Jobav tried to act dignified, the less dignified he ended up being. But that has nothing to do with Lance.
He already gave the best solutions: violent table overturning, and gentle table overturning. But Mr. Jobav chose to lie down and daydream about “one day”—let him be.
You can never wake a person who pretends to be asleep, even if you stab him until he bleeds.
Looking at the tens of thousands in debt claims in his hands—some easier to collect, some harder—he first organized them, then, in order, put that money into his own pocket.
While he was looking through these documents, Ethan suddenly rushed in, pushing the office door open.
He tilted his head, looking at Lance, as if asking, “Why didn’t you knock?”
“Elvin got beaten up at the dock. Heard he’s unconscious.”
Ethan was the closest to Elvin. His eyes were red, not from crying but pure anger—right now, he only wanted to kill someone!
Lance was stunned for a moment, then stood and went to the safe. He opened it, put the documents inside, and took out a handgun.
“Get some people together. Let’s go check it out…”
When some people heard Elvin got beaten, many wanted to come. Lance picked some of them, and four cars drove for about ten minutes to the dock.
By then, Elvin had woken up but looked terrible, curled up on the roadside, grimacing in pain.
Those around him were startled to see so many cars arrive, but then relaxed when they saw Lance’s group in the sunset’s glow.
“Where does it hurt?” Lance walked over and checked. His cheek was swollen, and he had a wound on his face—probably a penetrating injury.
Elvin was clutching his stomach, making Lance’s expression serious.
“My stomach…”
Lance looked at Ethan. “Carry him to the car, we’re going to the hospital.” Then he looked around. “Anyone who knows what happened, come with us.”
Some people stepped back, afraid of trouble, but several others were eager to join.
Lance pointed casually, “You come with us.”
The man smiled a little but quickly realized it wasn’t a time for laughing. He nodded seriously and got in the car.
The hospital wasn’t far from the dock but not a well-known one. The medical groups knew dock workers had no money—no profits to squeeze.
In Jinggang City, the best medical resources were concentrated in the Bay Area, filled with villas and rich people who were willing to pay endless sums for their health.
At the hospital, Ethan carried Elvin straight to the emergency room. The doctor checked carefully, looking serious.
“Who can take responsibility here?”
A crowd gathered, making the doctor nervous. “Send someone responsible to talk to me.”
Lance made the crowd step back a bit, stood next to the doctor, and handed over twenty bucks.
“How is my friend now?”
The doctor hesitated, unsure what to do. Lance slipped the money into the doctor’s chest pocket, and the doctor snapped out of it.
“I have good news and… one bad news.”
The twenty bucks improved the mood. The doctor planned a little joke of “good news and bad news,” but seeing Lance’s murderous glare, he gave up.
“Your friend’s intestines might have some problems.”
He wanted to say that surviving for over ten minutes meant the internal injury wasn’t too severe, but seeing these people’s expressions, he decided to be straightforward.
“So, surgery is needed?” Lance asked.
The doctor nodded. “We can do it here, but the surgery fee isn’t cheap. Does your friend have insurance?”
Lance shook his head. Elvin was still undocumented; how could he have insurance?
“About how much?”
The doctor pursed his lips. “If our own doctor does it, around a thousand to twelve hundred bucks. If you want a famous doctor from the Bay Area’s big hospitals, about four thousand five hundred.”
Everyone behind Lance gasped. Even just a thousand bucks for surgery shocked them into silence.
Not to mention that famous doctors charged four thousand five hundred. So, that meant those well-known doctors made a profit of about three thousand five hundred?
Actually, these weren’t truly famous doctors—just somewhat known, skilled surgeons who were willing to take extra jobs.
Truly famous surgeons didn’t need this money and wouldn’t work outside their hospitals.
Given the outrageous surgical quality of this era, Lance told the doctor to schedule the so-called famous doctors.
Then he told Ethan to return to the company and bring five thousand bucks.
The doctor almost laughed hearing this!
Though the big cut went to outside doctors, it was still several hundred more than if they did it themselves!
“No problem, sir. I’ll arrange it right away.”
He didn’t ask if this person was an illegal immigrant or anything—money was money.
Lance finally had time and looked at the young man who followed them in, shocked.
“What’s your name?”
“Allen, Mr. Lance.”
“Okay, Allen, tell me what happened.”
The young man briefly explained. When he mentioned that a guy named Hammer had punched Elvin and kicked him again, Lance couldn’t help but punch the hospital wall hard.
The loud thud drew everyone’s attention, but they quickly looked away under some scary gazes.
“Good kid. You can go now,” Lance said, pulling a twenty-dollar bill out and slipping it into Allen’s pocket, but the guy didn’t leave.
“Anything else?” Lance asked, now a bit irritated.
Allen swallowed. “Mr. Lance, I want to join your family.”
Lance was stunned, then laughed and grabbed the back of Allen’s neck, squeezing it a bit.
“Now you’re family. Go get some rest. Come to the office tomorrow morning.”
Allen’s eyes almost lit up with joy.
“Mr. Lance…”
“Call me Lance.”
“Lance, I want to stay here. I can help you with anything, whatever it is!”
Lance didn’t dampen his enthusiasm and let him stay.
Soon doctors came with two nurses. From this perspective, the four thousand five hundred bucks… was still expensive!
Luckily, Lance recently had a large income and could afford it.
The doctor briefly assessed the situation, confirming it was the same as the other doctor said.
“If it were a ruptured spleen or other organs, he wouldn’t have made it here. Most likely, his intestines got twisted.”
“Is the operating room ready?” After a yes, the doctor put the money in his bag and shook Lance’s hand.
“I’ll do my best.”
Then he entered the operating room.
The whole surgery lasted about forty minutes. When the doctor came out smiling, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
He removed his mask. “His intestines were twisted several turns due to external force. I opened his abdomen, straightened out the intestines, and put them back. He’ll wake up soon.”
“This kind of case doesn’t need special care. I told the doctors here the precautions; they will follow.”
“He can walk or do simple things soon, but full recovery may take two or three months.”
Lance smiled and shook hands with the doctor again.
“Thank you for your help. Can I have a business card?”
“If needed, you can contact me directly.”
The doctor hesitated but, looking closely at Lance and his people, decided to leave a card, saying, “If it’s a medical issue, come find me. But don’t bring me trouble.”
Lance shook his hand firmly.
“I promise!”
Two hours later, Elvin woke from anesthesia. Looking at Lance by the bed and the angry Ethan, he smiled.
“Sorry, I messed up this time.”
Lance shook his head.
“Rest well. Tell me who did this.”
“Hammer!”
The crowd left, leaving Allen and another person to care for him.
Outside the hospital, Lance lit a cigarette.
“I know the rational thing is to wait for him at the dock tomorrow morning. He can’t run away.”
“But personally, emotionally, I don’t want to wait until tomorrow to settle this grudge!”
More than twenty people stood quietly, looking at him.
Lance met each of their eyes, nodded slightly with the cigarette between his fingers.
“Send out our people, find out where he lives and where he is now. I want to see him before dawn!”
“Spend whatever it takes. I don’t care how many people you disturb or how much money you spend. I only care about seeing him!”
“Now, do it!”