American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 150 Two Arch-enemies

Beta drove his Mercedes G550 back into Dutton Farm. The sound of the wheels rolling over the gravel road was particularly clear on the open grassland, startling a few crows that were resting on the fence.

Unlike the tense atmosphere last time, this time no cowboys were armed and blocking the way. Ranch workers along the route stopped what they were doing and watched the off-road vehicle.

Sunlight refracted off the Mercedes' paint. Beta held the steering wheel with one hand, the other casually resting on the edge of the window. He wore sunglasses, his icy blue eyes hidden behind the dark lenses.

The G550's engine emitted a deep roar as it finally came to a steady stop on the wide gravel ground in front of the main building.

The car door opened, and Beta's footsteps made a crisp sound on the gravel. He straightened his suit cuffs and looked up at the ancient building that carried two hundred years of Western history.

In front of the main building's porch, the flag bearing the Dutton family crest was swaying gently in the breeze.

Near the stables in the distance, Rip leaned against the railing, smoking. He squinted at Beta's retreating figure, exhaled a smoke ring, and silently pushed the pistol at his waist deeper into his belt.

Beta took a black folder from the passenger seat and tapped it lightly on the cover with his fingers. As he turned his head, he caught a glimpse of Rip by the stables in the distance.

Beta strode toward the main building's porch, his leather shoes making a soft crunch on the gravel. Just as he was about to step onto the stairs, the heavy oak door swung open from the inside, and Beth Dutton strode out.

Today, she was unusually dressed in a pair of skinny jeans, paired with brown sneakers, a simple plaid shirt, and her hair was casually tied in a ponytail.

Beta's gaze lingered on her for a moment, finally settling deliberately on her legs.

"That's rare," Beta said slowly. "At least you remembered to wear pants today."

He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice, saying, "Looks like you learned your lesson at the watering trough last time? You won't be going around flaunting your lace underwear again, will you?"

Beth's face darkened, and she clenched her fists. But quickly, she forced herself to relax and returned a equally provocative smile: "What? Antonio's lackeys, now they even want to control other people's clothing styles?"

She deliberately looked Beta up and down: "Or do you actually miss that scene?"

Beta casually shook the folder in his hand.

“Why don’t we go inside and talk business?” He turned slightly to the side, gesturing for her to enter. “Or perhaps Miss Dutton prefers to conduct business in public?”

Beth snorted coldly, turned around, and forcefully pushed open the heavy wooden door. The door swung backward at an astonishing speed, about to crash into Beta, who was right behind her.

Beta's hand firmly pressed against the closing door. He calmly stepped over the threshold, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It's quite surprising, Miss Dutton. You're behaving like a child. Seriously, are you sure you're really 33? Not 13?"

Beth responded with an extremely fake, sweet smile: "At least I don't have to prove my maturity by working as a henchman for the Italian Mafia, Mr. Wick."

Beta smiled and said, "You're mistaken."

He said slowly and deliberately, "I've always been naive."

Before he could finish speaking, his leather shoes had already stepped on Beth's untied shoelaces.

Just as Beth was about to take a step, she suddenly felt her footing falter.

"boom!"

A muffled thud echoed through the spacious corridor.

Beth lunged forward, but thankfully she reacted quickly enough to brace herself with her arms, avoiding a face-first fall. Her blonde hair was disheveled and fell over her shoulders, her chest heaving, and her grey-green eyes burned with rage.

“You—” she gritted her teeth and looked up, meeting Beta’s condescending gaze.

Beta crouched down and gently tugged at the shoelace: "It seems Miss Dutton's mental age is stuck at 13, and she hasn't even mastered a basic skill like tying shoelaces?" Beth straightened up and slapped his hand away.

Her cheeks flushed with anger, but when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly calm: "You know what? Montana law allows for self-defense."

She slowly stood up and patted off non-existent dust from her jeans: "And I happen to be someone who is very good at knowing how to handle things."

Beta waved his hand casually, the smile on his face gradually fading: "Never mind, we two are probably destined to be mortal enemies."

He straightened up: "Is your father in the study? Seriously, I don't want to be talking about serious business and suddenly see you pull a shotgun out from under the table."

His tone was half joking and half serious.

Beth scoffed, "Come with me."

Without turning her head, she said, her voice filled with suppressed anger, "But I suggest you walk behind me, so you can see clearly whether I'm touching a gun or not."

Beta followed Beth through the carpeted corridor, their footsteps absorbed by the thick carpet.

Beth pushed open the study door and peeked inside.

“He’s here,” she said briefly, stepping aside to make way.

Beta nodded slightly, a perfectly polite smile playing on her lips: "Thank you."

His voice was deep and polite, as if he weren't the man who had just played the prank.

Just as Beta stepped into the study, he turned back and pointed to Beth's sneakers: "The shoelaces are undone again."

His tone was so natural that Beth reflexively looked down to check.

"Ha! I just kidded you!"

Beta's voice was filled with pleasure. Before Beth could react, he had already entered the study and closed the door behind him.

Beth's face was flushed with anger.

Inside the study, old Dutton stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a whiskey glass.

Hearing the door close, he slowly turned around, his bronze ring tapping on the table: "It seems you and my daughter are getting along quite well?"

Beta casually loosened his collar: "Just two overgrown kids bumping into each other."

He walked to the desk and tapped the surface lightly with his fingers: "Seriously, if I go downstairs later and find that the tires are gone or the car is covered with words like 'lackey', you'll have to lend me a car to get back to the city."

Old Dutton's deep laughter echoed in the study. He stroked the bronze ring, a hint of helplessness in his eyes: "Knowing Beth as I do, she's more likely to sink your car straight into the lake west of the ranch."

The old man put down his wine glass, the bottom of which clinked crisply against the oak table. "But don't worry, I'll buy you a brand new one."

Beta chuckled and laid the documents flat on the table: "Getting down to business, the land dispute at Dutton Farm is no longer valid as of today."

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a halo of light on the official seals on the documents.

Old Dutton's fingertips trembled slightly as he traced the legal texts. For the first time in two hundred years, this land truly belonged to the Dutton family.

(End of this chapter)