The Son-In-Law Shot to Fame (Donald and Jennifer)

"All right, hand me this notebook. I'll help you turn it into cash."

Hearing Donald's words, Jonty remained skeptical.

Can he really get us cash based on this manually recorded attendance book alone?

Right then, the sound of the bell signaling mealtime echoed from the construction site's cafeteria.

By right, after a busy day, mealtime should be the happiest moment.

Yet, Jonty and the others didn't seem to have much enthusiasm. Several workers even asked each other, "Are you eating today?"

Donald became even more bewildered as he listened from the side.

Everyone's doing manual labor here. How can they manage without eating?

As if seeing through Donald's doubts, Jonty explained, "The cafeteria on the construction site is contracted by Wilbur's sister-in-law. Since we can't leave, we have to get all three meals settled in this cafeteria daily."

He sighed, continuing, "If the food in this cafeteria tasted better and had bigger portions, none of us would have any complaints. But the food here..."

Hearing that, Donald joined the line, curious to see what the food here was really like.

As there were not many people eating, it was soon his turn.

Upon laying his eyes on the dishes displayed before him, Donald almost threw up on the spot.

The meat dishes were beef and potato stew and pickled pigs' feet.

However, not only were the chunks of beef covered in white, sinewy tendons, but even the potatoes were all blackened and hard. With one glance, one would be able to tell they were clearly not made from fresh potatoes.

And then there was the pickled pigs' feet.

The pig's trotters still had mud and pig hair on them. Anyone in their right mind wouldn't eat such food.

How could this be a nourishing meal? This was basically torturing oneself.

"Hey! What exactly do you want to eat? Why are you standing here in silence?"

The man behind the counter had a cigarette dangling from his mouth while the ash constantly fell into the uncovered food.

Seeing Donald standing there without saying what he wanted to eat, the man appeared somewhat impatient.

Before Donald could even respond, the man randomly scooped a few dishes and handed them to Donald, saying, "Here you go. That'll be fifty."

Donald didn't bother to take the food tray. Instead, he remarked contemptuously, "Fifty bucks for this pigswill that you call food?"

The man's eyes narrowed slightly. He lifted his chin toward Donald and answered, "That's right. I'm offering pigswill. So, are you in or out?"

"Pigswill should be fed to pigs. I'll pass, but you probably need it."

"Son of a b*tch. Are you f*cking looking for trouble?" The man raised the metal ladle in his hand, ready to strike Donald.

However, with a swift lift of his left hand, Donald slammed the food tray right onto the man's face.

Even the most capable man would be temporarily blind with oily food smeared all over his face.

Thus, in one fell swoop, Donald grabbed the man by the collar and yanked the latter forward. Seizing the moment when the man lost balance, Donald forced the man's head right into the pot of pickled pigs' feet.

Although the pickled pigs' feet had been served for a while now, the temperature of its oily surface was no laughing matter.

Upon being forced into the pot, the man let out a piercing scream, prompting the chefs to rush out from the back in a hurry.

"What's going on? Who the hell are you? Are you looking for trouble?"

Three chefs, with knives in hand, were about to approach Donald.

Donald's face darkened. Instead of retreating, he advanced and took the initiative to strike.

At first, the workers thought that Donald seemed quite cultivated, so he would certainly be injured this time.

To their shock, in less than half a minute, the three chefs who were just flaunting their power were now lying on the ground, wailing in pain.

Donald had knocked down four strong men in succession. This piqued everyone's curiosity about his story, and they wondered why he was so impressive.

"F*cking hell! Can't a lady get her beauty sleep in peace? What on Earth are you deadbeats making a racket about out there?" Valerie Wilder emerged from the adjacent small room, dressing herself as she walked.

When she saw her staff lying all over the ground, she halted in her tracks. "Did you beat them up?"