Ex Husband Goes Money Comes

Chapter 477



Chapter 477

Chapter 477 Ormand's Torture

Ormand raised his dark eyes and glanced at Ronian coldly. He picked up a booklet of missions on the table and threw it at the latter.

Ronian did not move at all. The paper booklet gently hit his belly and then slid to the ground.

Take a look first.”

Ronian was puzzled. He bent down to pick up the booklet and seriously flipped through it.

"This is the record of my missions in the past three months. What do you mean, Mr. Hobson?”

Ormand put the cigarette in his hand on the table and seriously scolded, "Your attendance in the past month is less than the previous two months. Shouldn't you give me an explanation?“

Ronian knew that Ormand was looking for trouble, so he could only suppress his anger and explain, "Because Sherlyn is sick, I often went home to stay with her during the last month.”

"What an excuse."

Ormand picked up the ashtray on the table and smashed it on Ronian's forehead. Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

The moment the ashtray flew over, Ronian instinctively turned his head to dodge.

The ashtray brushed past his ear and fell onto the carpet behind him.

"What?"

Behind the desk, Ormand frowned with displeasure. His dark eyes were cold and piercing, and it was a sign of anger.

Ronian stared at the metal plate on the desk with the words "Director."

He suppressed his anger constantly, turned around, picked up the ashtray on the carpet, and smashed it on his forehead in front of Ormand.

Somewhere on his forehead quickly turned red and slightly swollen, but it was not bleeding.

Ormand said seriously as he admired Ronian's defeated expression, "Sherlyn only returned to the Felton’s place a week ago. It has only been seven days at most, but your workload has decreased by half.

"It's obvious that you are slacking on your work, and you still dare argue with me.

“Ronian, is it because I haven't asked about the situation in the bureau for too long? Are you itching for a beating and deliberately trying to play at me?"

The moment he finished speaking, Ormand picked up the cup on the table and threw it at Ronian.

This time, Ronian restrained the urge to dodge and did not move.

The cup just happened to hit the swollen injury he had just knocked on. The two injuries overlapped, and the skin on his forehead was scratched. It was slightly bleeding.

Ronian raised his eyebrows, endured the pain on his forehead, and replied respectfully, "Mr. Hobson, believe me. I dare not.”

"You have your ideas. You and I both know whether you dare or not."

Ormand had always had a reputation for being ruthless and vicious. In the past year, he had restrained a lot of his hostility because of his wife.

This time, he was ordered by his wife to punish Ronian. He was very happy to do that.

And he had long wanted to teach Ronian a good lesson. Ronian was the best at pretending, bullying the weak, fearing the strong, and having the desire to control.

While thinking of this, Ormand rubbed the famous watch on his wrist and asked coldly, "Today, I punished you because you slacked off. You even have the delusion of quibbling and escaping the blame. Do you admit it?”

Ronian clenched his fists tightly behind his back as the veins on his arms bulged.

Ormand was Ronian's superior, so Ronian didn't dare to vent his anger.

Although he felt indignant in his heart, he could only suppress his anger. "I admit it. I am willing to accept any punishment from you, Mr. Hobson."

Ormand stared at him with dark eyes. “Of course, you will be punished. But this afternoon is still very long. I am very happy to make you follow the rules, my deputy director."

Ronian raised his head and looked at Ormand. He could sense a dangerous aura in Ormand's eyes.

Ormand adjusted the collar of his military uniform and slowly got up. He walked around the desk and stood in front of Ronian.He was taller than Ronian, and he was more imposing than Ronian because he was a fierce and dignified superior.

“Take off your military coat."

Ronian didn't understand. He looked at Ormand for a while. In the end, he obeyed the order and obediently took off his military coat. He folded it neatly and placed it on the couch.

After doing all this, Ronian returned to his original position and stood up again.

Ormand stared at him with a faint smile and said seriously, “Let's see if your stamina has decreased. 400 push-ups in one go. Don't stop."

“Yes, Sir.”

This wasn't particularly difficult for Ronian, who had gone through tough training and had a good physique.

He immediately bent down, propped up his firm arms, and quickly did pushups.

Ormand lowered his eyes and looked down.

It was very quiet in the office, and only Ronian occasionally gasped heavily.

Ormand estimated that there were 100 push-ups. He asked, “How many?"

Ronian stopped, his forehead covered in a thin layer of sweat. "107," he answered without any difficulty.

"So you can talk. Then why don't you count it out?" Ormand scoffed.

Ronian was confused.

He looked up at Ormand inexplicably. He was not asked to count his pushups.

Ormand did not speak, but his eyes were filled with an aura that didn't allow anyone to interfere.

Ronian accepted his fate and continued to do push-ups. He started counting. "108."

"You stopped just now, so you need to start over."

Ronian was stunned.

It would be difficult to go through this afternoon because Ormand made things difficult for Ronian.

Ronian held his anger back and started to count.

Ormand stared at him calmly for a while. Then, he turned around and walked to the table. He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the table leisurely. He listened to Ronian's increasingly strenuous counting while sipping his coffee.

The office temperature was normal, and Ormand felt good about his body temperature.

Ormand turned on the heater and adjusted the temperature to 86 degrees Fahrenheit.

He took off his military uniform, only wearing a thin white shirt. His sleeves were slightly rolled up two times while revealing a small part of his fair and beautiful arms.

He even added two pieces of ice to his coffee cup. And he felt relaxed and lazy.

"345..."

Ronian's whole body was wet with sweat, and the sweat on the tip of his nose and chin gathered while leaving a puddle of water on the floor in front of him.

It was getting hotter, and Ronian had to count.

Ronian's mouth was dry, and his sweaty palms were slightly unstable on the ground.

He had to focus all of his attention and steady himself to prevent himself from falling to the ground in a sorry state, which was very taxing on his body.

And his forehead was broken, and the sweat had salinity, which would flow into the wound and cause intense pain. It caused Ronian to feel dizzy.

He silently noted down his hatred for Ormand in his mind, but he did not dare stop.

"400..."

After reporting the joyful number with difficulty, Ronian stood up steadily with his hands behind his back.

Ormand put down his cup and looked at him up and down. He teased with his thin lips, "Just a few hundred push-ups. Why are you panting like this? Your head is full of hot sweat. It seems that your physical fitness has declined recently.”

Ronian tried hard to calm his breathing. His shirt was wet with sweat and clung to his body. It was very sticky and extremely uncomfortable.

But he couldn't ask Ormand to let him take a shower. And Ormand wouldn't agree. Perhaps, Ormand would ridicule him.

While feeling the hot wind, Ronian unconsciously glanced up. He found that Ormand had turned on the heater.

The hands behind his back clenched again, and his sweat continued to slide down his cheeks and chin.

Ormand narrowed his eyes coldly without being afraid that Ronian would figure out the situation, and then he continued, "With your current state, how can you continue to be qualified to be the deputy director?”

Ronian was stunned and immediately said, "I've been slacking off recently. When I go back, I'll practice diligently.”

"I don't care about what happens after you go back. Today, I'll let you experience the taste of devil training.” Ormand looked at him and smiled.


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