142: Chapter 142 The First Lady is coming? A huge misunderstanding.

"The First Lady?" Chen Yuan raised an eyebrow.

That old man really lacks sportsmanship; he just finished the phone call, and immediately sent his wife over to wreck the place?

He shoved Victor, who was blocking his path, aside and strode out of the kitchen.

In the manor's front courtyard, the screeching of brakes blended into one continuous sound.

Eight heavy armored bulletproof vehicles parked in a fan shape in front of the main building's steps, and the doors popped open simultaneously.

Over thirty Secret Service agents in black suits, armed to the teeth, surged out like a tide, instantly locking onto all the surrounding high ground.

The atmosphere was tense, with the smell of gunpowder so thick that a single spark could ignite it.

And in the center of the heavy protection.

A woman with short, professional hair, wearing a dark gray high-end business suit, stepped down in high heels.

America's The First Lady, Emily.

Her face was livid, and in those emerald eyes—identical to Jennifer's—burned a crazed, murderous intent like a mother lion protecting her cub.

"Chen Yuan!"

Emily looked at Chen Yuan, who was standing on the steps holding half a cup of coffee, and shouted sternly.

"Withdraw those disgusting monsters of yours! Hand over Jennifer immediately!"

"If you dare touch a single hair on my daughter, I swear, today will be your death day!"

Accompanied by her fury, over thirty infrared laser dots landed squarely on Chen Yuan's chest.

As long as she gave the order, the Secret Service would definitely turn this drug-dealing arms tycoon into a sieve.

Facing this formation that would be enough to scare the wits out of an ordinary person.

Chen Yuan didn't even blink.

He took a slow sip of coffee, feeling the bitterness spread across his tongue.

Only then did he look up, gazing at The First Lady as if she were a neighbor coming for a visit.

"Madam, don't be so angry. Menopause easily leads to endocrine disorders."

A playful arc curled at the corners of Chen Yuan's mouth, his tone casual.

"Also, let me correct two mistakes of yours."

"First, your daughter climbed over the wall herself and refused to leave; this is called trespassing, not kidnapping."

"Second..."

Chen Yuan pointed to the villa door behind him with a playful smile.

"Not only has she not lost a single hair, but she is actually having a very fulfilling time."

"Fulfilling? You locked her in the basement to torture her?!"

Emily didn't believe his nonsense at all, shoved the bodyguards aside, and rushed inside.

Chen Yuan stepped aside and made a gesture of "please."

"Go forward, turn left, the kitchen."

Emily, with a few personal bodyguards, rushed into the villa, brimming with murderous intent.

She imagined countless terrible scenarios.

Her precious daughter might be tied to a torture rack, or locked in a dark iron cage.

She might even be trembling in fear, intimidated by those legendary monsters.

"Bang!"

The kitchen door was kicked open by the Secret Service.

"Jennifer! Don't be afraid, Mommy is here to save..."

Emily's roar got stuck in her throat.

She widened her eyes, looking at the absurd scene before her, and her brain instantly crashed.

No torture devices.

No monsters.

Only a huge stainless steel sink.

Her precious daughter, who had never lifted a finger since childhood and even needed servants to bring water to her lips.

Was currently wearing an absurdly large, dirty apron and yellow rubber gloves.

Her face was stained with unknown grease and dish soap foam.

She was gritting her teeth and very seriously scrubbing stubborn stains on the bottom of a plate with a steel wool ball.

"The left side isn't clean yet! Wash it again!"

An Umbrella logistics supervisor roared unceremoniously from the side.

"Got it, got it! Stop rushing me!"

Jennifer pouted aggrievedly and hurriedly shoved the plate back into the water to scrub it again, not even bothering to look back at her mother who had just rushed in.

Emily turned to stone.

The Secret Service agents following behind her looked at each other, not knowing where to point their guns.

This is called torture?

This is fucking labor reform!

Chen Yuan leaned leisurely against the doorframe, watching Emily's "seen a ghost" expression, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Madam, do you see it?"

Chen Yuan spread his hands, his tone revealing a sense of pride like a teacher.

"I am teaching her to experience life and establish correct labor values. This is a social practice class you can't learn at the White House."

"Jennifer!"

Emily finally came back to her senses and rushed over with heartache.

She ripped the rubber gloves off her daughter's hands: "Are you crazy? Come home with Mommy now! This bastard actually dared to make you wash dishes!"

She was so heartbroken that tears were about to fall.

Those hands that played the piano, how could they be soaking in this greasy swill!

However.

Unexpectedly for everyone.

Jennifer actually shook off her mother's hand.

"I'm not going back!"

Although her face was covered in oil and she was sniffing aggrievedly, her eyes were exceptionally firm.

"Are you stupid? He's abusing you like this!" Emily looked at her daughter in disbelief.

"Mom, you don't understand!"

Jennifer pointed at Chen Yuan, then at the kitchen full of cooking fumes.

"Although he is a devil, a tyrant with no taste!"

"But here, at least I am a living, breathing person, not a political doll placed in a shop window to trade for votes!"

She lifted her small, foam-covered face and announced loudly.

"I think this place is much more interesting than that cold White House!"

The entire kitchen fell into silence again.

Emily looked at her daughter, who was stubborn, alive, and even dared to talk back to her loudly.

She suddenly discovered that the girl who had always suffered from depression and anorexia had unexpectedly found a strange vitality here.

She turned her head and re-examined Chen Yuan, who was leaning against the doorframe.

This Eastern warlord, viewed by all American politicians as a malignant tumor.

Had actually used a few piles of dirty plates to cure a rebellious phase that even top psychologists were helpless against?

"Mr. Chen."

The hostility and murderous intent on Emily's face slowly receded.

Replaced by a shrewdness and scrutiny belonging to a politician.

"It seems my husband was right. You really are an extraordinary... weirdo."

She waved her hand, signaling the Secret Service to put away their weapons.

A tense, life-threatening crisis was resolved in such an almost absurdly comedic way.

"Since she is willing to stay, let her stay here for a few days. Consider it... a special summer camp."

Emily took a deep breath, regaining the elegance and nobility of The First Lady.

She walked out with her bodyguards.

However, when passing through the front courtyard, her gaze suddenly stopped.

Her gaze did not look at those tyrants in suits.

But stared fixedly at a few security personnel who were moving heavy cargo.

They were wearing a type of highly sci-fi hydraulic mechanical exoskeleton, easily lifting a one-ton container.

Emily's eyes lit up instantly.

That was the keen sense of smell belonging to politicians and military-industrial interest groups.

She stopped, turned her head, and looked at Chen Yuan, who had followed her out to see her off.

The smile at the corner of her mouth became meaningful.

"Mr. Chen, setting aside the matter of my daughter."

"I heard that you recently developed a new type of individual exoskeleton equipment?"