Reborn as Mr.CEO's Fat Wife

“Stop, how dare you mess with us!” The leader and Blondie yelled from behind, as the big guy and the man with the scarf accelerated forward.

Abigail pretended not to hear, her heart tightened as she pushed Brandon Piers’ hospital bed, especially worried that the man on the bed would not make it.

Compared to the noisy gang, the real danger was the two silent pursuers who were about to catch up.

They were the real threat.

They were after Brandon Piers’ life.

“I told you to stop running!” Blondie gasped, falling behind, suddenly spotting two bricks in the corner. He bent down and picked them up.

The big guy was about to catch up to the middle-aged man and his subordinate, eyeing them warily. “Are you also here to catch that fat bitch? How about this—our boss said she’s loaded. If we catch her, we can split fifty-fifty.”

The four thought the middle-aged man was also paid to deal with Abigail.

But after the big guy finished speaking, the man just gave him a cold glance and continued chasing Abigail.

Seeing they were about to catch up, the middle-aged man’s eyes fixed ominously on the hospital bed that Abigail was pushing, recognizing the research lab’s logo.

The tall man in front of Abigail, with his back to them, was definitely Pullan Rhys, Brandon Piers’ bodyguard.

The person on the bed was undoubtedly Brandon Piers.

Feeling disrespected, the big guy’s eyes glinted with malice, signaling Blondie who was panting heavily behind him.

This time Blondie finally got the message, hastily handed one brick to the man with the scarf, who immediately passed it to the big guy.

The exit was near, but the ambulance had yet to arrive. However, the middle-aged man had already caught up. Abigail gritted her teeth, clutching the silver needles in her hand, hoping to catch him off guard.

“Stop.” The middle-aged man had already reached Abigail, his subordinate attacking Pullan, his eyes cold as he commanded Abigail.

Abigail ignored him and continued pushing the bed. The middle-aged man sneered, “You won’t listen to good advice.”

He then launched a casual grappling attack, clearly not taking Abigail seriously.

Abigail’s eyes turned cold, the silver needles poised. But the next moment, she saw a brick mercilessly smash into the middle-aged man’s head from behind.

The man clearly didn’t expect this. He turned around in disbelief, seeing the big guy grinning at him.

As a retired boxer, Thompson Taylor didn’t take these four small-timers seriously. After years of serving Master Piers, though he wasn’t powerful, he was well-respected, with many subordinates respectfully calling him Mr. Thompson every day. Now, being ambushed by a small fry, Thompson’s expression was understandably dark.

Seeing that the man didn’t pass out and was glaring at him maliciously, the big guy frowned, ready to go all out. Blondie, now caught up and sensing trouble, immediately smashed another brick on Thompson’s head.

A complete surprise.

Thompson slowly turned his head, “…You want to die!”

“Mr. Thompson!” The person fighting Pullan heard the commotion, saw Thompson hit by two bricks, was stunned, then shouted worriedly.

Thompson felt dizzy, but gritted his teeth, thinking how he was outsmarted. Next moment, he attacked Blondie, each move deadly.

Terrified, Blondie bolted, and the big guy took over.

Abigail looked at the man fighting Pullan, “Mr. Thompson looks bad, aren’t you going to help?”

The man, “…” Mr. Thompson?

Pullan shuddered, quickly supporting the bed to prevent it from slipping.

At this moment, the sound of an ambulance siren echoed at the exit. Abigail secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Help had arrived!