I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 107 The Second Miracle and the Personal Healer (10K-word chapter, please vote and subscribe)

Father Samuel was shot in the outside of his thigh, screamed, and fell to the ground.

The altar was smashed to pieces, and the shotgun had no accuracy, hitting wherever it landed completely randomly.

Everyone screamed.

Debbie immediately crawled under the table, her face turning pale with fright.

She looked around and realized Richard wasn't there.

Thankfully, he shouldn't be injured.

Debbie crouched under the table, thinking instinctively.

She saw Samuel lying beside her, so she knelt down and pressed his robe against his wound. Samuel looked pale from the pain.

Most people didn't dare to look up.

Some people were bold enough to crane their necks and watch the young man with the gun. He walked up to the altar expressionlessly, muttering something under his breath.

A male college student tried to sneak away through the door behind Cole as he walked toward the altar.

Upon hearing the sound, Cole turned and fired a shot on the spot.

boom!

The air was thick with the smoke of gunpowder.

The male college student collapsed covered in blood, his upper body riddled with bullet holes, and died instantly.

The choir members looked at him in horror.

Looking at these clean, rosy, and healthy students, Cole thought about how he had been staying up all night doing experiments, while they only needed to sing a few songs to gain so many fans.

"That's unfair."

Cole raised his gun, without a slogan or a declaration.

boom!

A large number of the choir members collapsed.

"Help!"

"Run!"

"He's gone mad! Quick!"

Cole fired another shot, and blood splattered all over the ground.

Some people panicked and trampled on the injured as they ran away, causing blood to gush from the wounds.

Some people were trapped under benches and tables, unable to move.

The scene was in complete chaos. This time, no one dared to run towards the main gate.

The magazine is empty.

Cole numbly fired the bullets: "Didn't you all look down on me? Didn't you think you were so superior? Now you don't seem so special, you were just shot dead with one bullet, weren't you?"

Another male college student tried to escape towards the backyard while he was reloading bullets.

Cole pulled a pistol from its holster.

boom!

Even with little shooting experience, he could hit the target within a mere five meters.

However, the bullet missed. It was meant to hit the boy in the back of the head, and his brains splattered onto the door.

The male college student collapsed like a log, lying on the ground and dying instantly.

Everyone was terrified.

Some screamed, others darted about, all heading in a direction away from Cole.

However, no one tried to escape towards the gate again.

Everyone understood that Cole wouldn't allow anyone to leave the auditorium.

Cole put the pistol back in its holster and continued loading the shotgun.

He stood on the blood-soaked altar, no longer caring about anything; there was nothing in this world worth caring about.

He turned to look at the chapel, and everyone stared at him in horror.

In all these years, he has never been watched by so many people.

"So you can see me, huh?" Cole muttered to himself.

Debbie looked at Cole beside her and burst into tears.

Cole looked down at the sound and saw Debbie under the table.

She was desperately trying to stop the wound on Father Samuel's outside thigh.

The priest was also lucky; he only suffered a few wounds on his legs from the shotgun, which did not appear to be fatal.

Debbie was luckier.

She stood next to Samuel, and surprisingly, she wasn't hurt.

What a beautiful girl.

Cole pulled back the bolt with a click.

Suddenly, he recognized the girl.

"Starling Saintess, are you the so-called saintess?" His mind was somewhat hazy as he recalled the overwhelming online videos from a while back—the incident of a starling attacking a reporter.

"Can you really communicate with God?" Cole asked calmly.

Debbie looked up at Cole, trembling all over, unable to utter a single word.

Her mind was a complete mess; she had no idea what she was thinking: "I'm going to die, I'm going to die. Thank goodness Richard isn't here. But I wonder which bitch will end up getting the job, maybe another cheerleader, some slut who shows off her legs. She might even be whiter than me."

Father Samuel struggled to his feet, his face contorted with grief: "My child, how could you kill someone in front of God?"

"God?" Cole tilted his head, pulled out his pistol, and fired a bullet into the priest's shoulder.

The priest screamed again and collapsed once more.

This injury was quite serious; he lay on the ground, barely able to move, and half of his body was quickly soaked in blood.

"Hahaha! Hahaha!" Blood splattered on Cole's face as he laughed maniacally, "Where is your God? Why doesn't he come to save you?"

Debbie covered her mouth in terror, trying hard not to scream.

"The Starling Saintess," Cole said, looking at Debbie with a hint of amusement.

He wasn't in a hurry at all; he had plenty of time before the police arrived.

Debbie was so frightened that she didn't dare to look up or speak.

Cole felt incredibly comfortable; he had never been noticed by such a beautiful girl before.

Those girls always looked down on him, never once did they look at him directly.

Suddenly, he remembered some rumors about this so-called prospective saintess: Debbie was actually a cheerleader.

As Debbie gradually gained popularity online, old photos of her were unearthed. Cole even saw some videos of Debbie dancing on the court, which are now circulating everywhere online. She looks beautiful.

"Cheerleader?" Cole's mind was also a bit confused. For some reason, he recalled the miserable experience of being bullied by the cheerleader and the football captain in high school, and his heart was filled with hatred.

"Damn cheerleader!"

He raised his gun and aimed it at Debbie's forehead.

"It all has to end, including me. It's all over."

Debbie could no longer contain her fear and screamed in terror, "God won't forgive you! Murderers go to hell!"

Cole chuckled, blood streaming down his face, making him look utterly terrifying: "Is that so? Then let your God punish me!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Debbie saw someone walk in through the back door of the auditorium.

It's Richard!

He calmly stepped over the boy's body lying on the back door, staring intently at Cole. The two were seven or eight meters apart, and there was no way he could make it in time.

"Damn it, I wonder which little bitch will end up with this guy. Farewell, Richard... I'm so sorry I never slept with him!" For some reason, that was the last thing she thought of.

Cole slammed the trigger.

Can't press it down?

It was as if something was blocking the trigger.

But there's nothing there?

The trigger is stuck.

Unbeknownst to him, Richard, not far away, squinted, his invisible magical hand firmly blocking the trigger.

"Hmph." Cole sneered, "You bitch, you're lucky."

He casually tossed the pistol to the ground, picked up the shotgun, aimed it at Debbie, and pulled the trigger.

Then, to his surprise, he found that he still couldn't press it down!

He tried several times, but the trigger wouldn't budge!

No way? A nameless fear swept over me.

Could it be that the guy in the sky is really helping her?

impossible!

The survivors at the scene were stunned. What was going on? Both guns were jammed. How could this be?

Upon seeing this, a boy ran towards the gate without saying a word.

What are you waiting for if you don't seize such a great opportunity?

"Fk! Don't run!" Cole shouted angrily, instinctively raising his shotgun to aim at the boy.

boom!

The bullet was fired.

The boy died tragically on the spot.

Cole was shocked. He aimed the shotgun at Debbie again and pulled the trigger, but it wouldn't budge.

An indescribable fear swept over me.

The survivors below all covered their mouths.

Some believers had already knelt down: "God's chosen daughter!"

"God protect you!"

"She truly is a saint! She truly has God's protection!"

Richard was surprised to find that, in that instant, a few traces of unclaimed faith floated out.

He realized this was a great opportunity to replenish his mana.

"Damn it! I don't believe it!" Cole's face contorted with rage as he fired another shot at the survivors. Bang!

Another round of screams and wails ensued.

He frantically pulled the trigger on Debbie.

Debbie screamed and closed her eyes, but the shotgun, which had just been firing, jammed again.

The bullet still hasn't been fired.

"What the fuck!" Cole was completely dumbfounded.

He took the gun and started spraying bullets at everyone else.

boom!

Many more people collapsed, and everyone was so frightened that they hid in fear.

"This is impossible!" He tried to pull the trigger on Debbie again, but it wouldn't budge.

Cole was completely stunned.

Everyone gasped in surprise, covering their mouths.

"Oh my god!" Samuel, who was on the ground, was also dumbfounded by the scene.

The survivors were frantically making the sign of the cross.

A massive influx of unclaimed faith emerged.

The Virgin Mary's face still bore traces of blood splattered on her by the priest, like a tear of blood slowly flowing down.

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass and fell precisely on Debbie, giving her a soft, rosy blush.

Richard quietly activated his desire manipulation, maximizing his fear and regret!

Cole suddenly felt fear engulf every cell in his body.

He recalled his grandmother's teachings from his childhood, her voice seemingly echoing in his ears: "He watches over everyone from heaven."

Clang. The gun fell to the ground.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, he knelt before Debbie, pleading in utter fear and remorse, "Redeem me! God! Holy Mother, forgive me!"

"I was wrong!"

Cole wept bitterly.

Debbie felt weak all over and could barely stand up, with a sense of unreality, as if she had survived a disaster.

Just then, she felt a strong hand lift her up.

Turning around, I saw Richard.

"Richard!" She hugged Richard tightly around the waist and burst into tears.

Richard's expression remained calm.

He kicked Karl's gun away before he could breathe a sigh of relief.

Cole didn't struggle, collapsing limply to the ground, clutching Debbie's trouser leg tightly, fear gripping his entire body: "Holy Mary, forgive me—"

Richard saw that a large amount of undecided faith was emanating from the church.

Immersed in his faithless devotion, Richard's magic was rapidly restored.

All the survivors knelt on the ground, ignoring the blood on the ground, and began to pray: "A miracle!"

"She is a true saint!"

"This is the second miracle!" Father Samuel said with difficulty, lying on the ground.

His gaze toward Debbie was filled with awe.

Originally, Sawyer was skeptical when he pushed for the canonization process.

In this corrupt society, many archbishops will also push swindlers onto the stage for their own selfish interests.

Now he realizes he was wrong!

Debbie truly is a saint!

God is truly protecting her!

His Excellency the Archbishop has truly discerning eyes!

"No! This is the third miracle! And that fire too!" A devout middle-aged female professor knelt on the ground and loudly proclaimed, "The NYPD fire was also a miracle, causing ignorant mortals to defame the saint's father, and God sent down divine punishment!"

Richard was dumbfounded.

That's an amazing explanation.

The problem is, these people actually believed it.

"right!"

"That's it!"

"Yes, this is the third miracle!"

After three consecutive miracles, no one doubted Debbie's status as a chosen one of the gods anymore.

Richard thought with disdain: a bunch of false believers who only believe when miracles are performed.

Can't you be a little more devout in your daily lives?

The injured on the ground were still groaning in pain.

He shouted, "Everyone, hurry and save them!"

No one reacted; they remained kneeling on the ground, hands clasped together, facing Debbie in quiet prayer.

Richard was helpless.

No matter what, you are all students and professors at Princeton University.

All he could say to Debbie was, "They should listen to you and tell them to hurry up and save people. Some of them might still be saved."

Debbie finally realized what was happening: "Oh, okay! Everyone, hurry and save them!"

The believers immediately stood up: "The saint is right!"

"Hurry and save them!"

Richard was speechless.

The survivors climbed out of the benches and began their own rescue operation.

Some used scarves to bandage the injured, some tore off the white cloth from the altar to use as a tourniquet, some went to find an AED defibrillator in the church, and some were trembling as they dialed 911.

Suddenly, intelligence seemed to return to everyone's mind.

A male professor knelt beside his blood-soaked wife, crying and trying to stop the bleeding by touching her wounds with his hands.

A girl pressed her glove against the wound of a stranger next to her, but the glove was quickly soaked with blood.

Samuel sat half-sitting by the pillar, his face pale, unable to sit up at all.

Everywhere there were cries, shouts, and prayers.

Richard looked up at the Virgin Mary on the stained glass.

The Virgin Mary watched all this calmly, though the blood on her face had already dried.

Cole ignored everything and just kept kissing Debbie's shoes, like the most devout believer.

Debbie looked disgusted and walked away, muttering, "Damn lunatic."

"No! Don't abandon me!" Cole cried out helplessly, stretching out his hands.

He trembled like a lamb abandoned by God, filled with utter despair, his eyes gradually becoming empty and numb.

"He exists; He's always watching over everyone from heaven, but He didn't help me. It turns out I'm invisible in God's eyes too!"

In less than half an hour, the entire church was surrounded by a large number of police officers.

Even when the NYPD headquarters burned down, the police weren't this nervous.

Dozens of police cars were used to cordon off the area, keeping everyone outside.

This is Princeton, a place teeming with the children of the wealthy and powerful. For a shooting to happen here is simply appalling!

Police cars and medical personnel were going in and out, carrying out the dead and injured.

Groups of reporters and students gathered outside the yellow line, filming with their cameras.

Debbie walked out of the church surrounded by countless survivors.

The female professor excitedly shouted as she stepped outside, "Debbie is a saint! The Starling Saint has performed her miracle again! She is the saint! That guy's gun is completely useless against Saint Debbie; it jams whenever he fires at her!"

She spoke somewhat recklessly, her words disorganized.

But others joined in the shouting, needing an outlet for their fear and psychological comfort.

"Yes! We all saw it!"

"Yes, yes, yes! She is a living saint!"

Some people are crying, and some are venting their frustrations.

But no matter how chaotic things got, everyone said the same thing: Debbie had once again performed a miracle, God had been protecting her, and no bullet could hit the saint!

The reporters were in an uproar.

Immediately afterwards, Cole was handcuffed and led out of the church.

He didn't struggle; his eyes were vacant, and his mouth was still moving, as if repeating something.

"What is he saying?" the escorting policeman asked his partner, looking at him with disgust.

The partner listened for a moment and said, "It sounds like something about the Virgin Mary or a saint."

"Hmph! He's not worthy to speak of the Holy Maiden; he deserves to go to hell!"

Upon hearing this, Cole shuddered, shoved limply into the police car, and collapsed into his seat, barely able to stand.

God is real; He has always been watching me, but He just can't see me.

The saintess is real!

The saintess even said I'm going to hell, I'm doomed!

Some reporters who tried to interview Cole were stopped by the police.

The Cole shooting was extremely serious. They had to interrogate people to obtain firsthand intelligence before selectively releasing information to the public, otherwise it could lead to a huge scandal.

Fox News reporters stood outside the police cordon, with police cars flashing their lights behind them. Stretchers were continuously being carried out of the injured and the dead, many of whom were covered with white sheets.

"This is Princeton University's main auditorium, where a horrific shooting has just occurred. At least thirty-seven people are dead and twenty-five injured. The perpetrator is Cole Barnes, a postdoctoral fellow and former researcher in the Cell Laboratory at Princeton. Most shockingly, all the survivors claim that Cole Barnes repeatedly attempted to shoot a girl, but all the bullets jammed. This girl is Debbie Dixon, the recently much-discussed pre-championship candidate..."

'

CNN's camera then focused on a police officer: "Was there something wrong with the shooter's gun?"

The policeman had wrapped the gun in two plastic bags, his face filled with worship and reverence; he was clearly a devout believer.

"There's nothing wrong with this gun. I've checked it, and it fires normally. But for some reason, it won't shoot when I aim it at Debbie. Everyone says that, but I don't know if it's true or not. It's impossible for everyone to be lying."

The reporter immediately reported to the camera: "Police have confirmed that both firearms tested negative and are capable of firing. As for why they couldn't be fired at Debbie Dixon, police have not yet provided a clear explanation. Survivors at the scene firmly believe it was a miracle."

Fox's cameras focused on the female professor, who excitedly spoke into the microphone, "The saint said you'd go to hell," and that damned gunman knelt down! I saw it! I don't know why, but that's not something an ordinary person can do! She is the saint! She is God's chosen one! All the bullets jammed! She pronounced the gunman's sins, and the gunman knelt at Debbie's feet!"

Two believers nearby joined in, shouting fervently, "Yes, that's it!"

"She's a saint! The gunman must go to hell!"

When Christina rushed to the scene with Evelyn Shaw, this was the chaotic scene she saw.

She found Richard, who was sitting on a bench with Debbie.

Debbie is still somewhat disoriented.

Just now, she was pointed at by a dark gun barrel, her face pale. The priest was shot down in front of her, and countless people were killed, their flesh and blood flying everywhere. At that moment, she thought she was going to die.

Richard's magic had been fully restored, so he simply used desire to soothe Debbie, greatly reducing her fear.

Debbie nestled against Richard, feeling much safer.

"What just happened? Why did those two guns jam?" Debbie finally realized what was going on.

Richard patted Debbie on the shoulder: "You are protected by God."

Yes, it is I who am protecting you.

"Really?" Debbie was also somewhat incredulous.

Actually, she doesn't really believe in miracles or God.

However, after being offered so-called protection two or three times in a row, she began to have some doubts herself.

isn't it?

Does that guy in the sky really exist?

I'm usually very disrespectful to him, and I've secretly cursed him many times. Is that guy in the sky a masochist? The more I curse him, the more he helps me.

"You have been chosen." A policeman walked up to Debbie, made the sign of the cross devoutly, and said respectfully, "May the Lord bless you, God's chosen one."

Debbie nodded awkwardly.

The police knew Debbie was frightened, so they didn't say anything and left quietly.

Richard was surprised to find that this policeman also seemed to emanate an apostolic faith.

Can you do this?

At that moment, another reporter approached, bowed to Debbie in the same manner, and said nothing more than, "May the Lord bless you, Your Highness!"

Outside the church, bodies were carried out on stretchers, covered with white sheets, leaving trails of crimson blood on the snow.

Debbie sat on a stone chair, and groups of believers lined up to bow to her.

Everyone was saying, "A living saint!"

"This is a living saint!"

The foolish reporter Gordon was seriously injured by the starling.

When the evil police framed Mike as a corrupt cop, God directly sent down divine punishment, burning the NYPD to the ground.

Inside the church, the gunman could kill at will, but the bullets couldn't hit Debbie; they would jam whenever they aimed at her.

"Once is a coincidence, twice is a coincidence, but what about three times?"

"Anything that is detrimental to her will be stopped!"

A continuous stream of unclaimed faith drifted out.

Many of them did not witness the scene inside the church.

Richard suddenly realized that in the past, believers only developed a devout faith when they witnessed miracles.

However, if I let Debbie perform more miracles and portray her as a saint, then some of the more devout believers will develop atheistic faith upon seeing her!

Doesn't that turn her into a mobile nanny?

This is much better than Kyrie Irving.

Richard seemed to have opened a brand new door: as long as Debbie's reputation was loud enough, he wouldn't lack blue.

Christina stood by, watching, inwardly sneering, "Foolish girl. It was our Lord who chose you. What does it have to do with that guy in the heavens?"

She didn't know exactly what had happened, but she could basically guess that Richard had protected Debbie.

Christina asked softly, "Richard, is everything alright?"

Richard waved his hand: "It's alright. The killer is Cole Barnes. You just fired him. Will he be in trouble?"

Christina coldly replied, "What does he have to do with me? I fired him and legally paid him the penalty for breach of contract. It was perfectly legal."

If Cole Barnes were a woman, or a lesbian, or of Indian or Black descent, then Christina would have to put on a show of politeness.

What is Cole Barnes?

Poor white men at the bottom of society, known as "white trash," are at the very bottom of the American media landscape, with a status only slightly higher than that of yellow men.

Even so, Christina still had to pretend to do some things, but this was something she didn't need to do herself.

She gestured to Evelyn Shaw, and Evelyn began making phone calls to newspapers and news outlets.

There were many students taking pictures with their phones at the scene, and that couldn't be stopped. As long as there were no problems with the reports from major news media, it would be difficult to ignite the fire in the cell laboratory this time.

Immediately afterwards, Richard received a large number of phone calls.

Daniel called first, sounding shocked: "Richard, I heard there was a shooting at Princeton. I saw Debbie. Are you alright?"

"fine."

"Is she really a saint?"

Who knows?

"Is it really impossible to hit her with bullets?"

"It seems so, at least the bullets that Cole idiot fired at her all jammed. The police checked the guns, nothing was wrong, nobody knows why." Richard completely absolved himself of any responsibility.

"It's actually true!" Daniel was stunned.

This matter is very important to him.

Richard was his right-hand man.

Cole-Barnes worked in a cell lab, but he was laid off.

Debbie is the daughter of his business partner, Catherine.

Daniel is a Protestant and not a particularly devout believer, but Debbie's series of "miracles"...

This also made him undecided.

Does God's protection of the saint mean that Catholicism is the only orthodox religion? Should we convert to Catholicism?

Daniel thought rather unpiously, ready to become an apostate at any moment: "By the way, the saint requires... purity. I saw you standing next to Debbie in the video; the Catholic Church might be putting pressure on you. Be careful."

Richard nodded: "It's alright."

The pressure will only increase after Debbie takes the first step towards canonization.

So far, Debbie is not a Catholic saint, so the pressure is relatively low.

However, a suitable solution still needs to be found, which Richard believes is not too difficult.

Regardless, as long as Debbie continues to perform miracles, she is a walking saint.

When the time comes, as long as she claims Richard is her guardian knight, then Richard is.

As for why the Guardian Knight has yellow skin, don't ask.

The saintess said it was the greatest.

After Daniel, Catherine called.

Instead of calling Debbie, she called Richard's cell phone: "Was it Debbie who caused this?"

Debbie got a little annoyed: "What do you mean 'causing trouble again'?" She snatched the phone: "I didn't cause trouble, Mom! Besides, I'm your daughter, you can call him but not me?"

Catherine remained calm: "Then why do you always manage to cause a lot of trouble wherever you go?"

Debbie was extremely aggrieved: "I'm truly innocent this time! I was just attending Christmas service at church when that lunatic stormed in with a gun! He's a madman!"

In fact, Catherine knew that with Richard by Debbie's side, Debbie couldn't possibly get hurt. After all, even if she died, she could be resurrected, so she was very reassured about it.

Debbie angrily handed the phone back to Richard, pouting, "I really don't know who your daughter is."

Richard took the phone.

Catherine said solemnly in a low voice, "Thank you for your protection, my lord."

Richard said calmly, "It's nothing."

After hanging up with Catherine, Brian called again, whispering, "I... Richard, you did it, didn't you?"

"That has nothing to do with me. I saw the Starling Saintess performing another miracle."

"Yes, yes, yes! It's a miracle from the saintess!"

Richard exclaimed, "Yes, she truly is a saint."

Debbie looked at Richard with a puzzled expression: "What did you say? You were so quiet. I think you're laughing at me."

Brian was practically laughing out loud; how could he not know what was going on?

What kind of miracle is this?

It was just that Richard helped Debbie.

However, this was a perfect opportunity.

The shooting in Princeton on Christmas Day demonstrates that public safety in New York City is on the verge of collapse and requires stricter management.

If the NYPD were to be burned down, those powerful figures might just watch the show, or even take advantage of the NYPD's misfortune.

But the Princeton shooting was something they couldn't tolerate because their children were going to school there.

The NYPD fire is described differently by different people.

In the mouths of believers, this was a miracle of the saint, proof that God protected her.

But according to Brian, this is the consequence of the NYPD's insufficient efforts in cracking down on gangs.

Then came Helen's call: "Are you alright? I saw Debbie. Is she safe? I was worried you might be in danger, so I didn't dare call you."

.

"Don't worry, everything is normal."

Helen actually knew about Debbie's existence all along.

She was initially a little jealous and anxious, but as Debbie continued to perform miracles, she couldn't be jealous at all.

For a devout Catholic, who would be jealous of a saint?

Everyone knows that the saintess will not marry.

Helen offered Richard a few more words of comfort, whispering, "It's too dangerous to stay with Her Highness the Holy Maiden. I hope you stay safe."

This statement reveals her own hidden agenda.

Richard didn't call him out on it: "Okay, thank you."

Then came the unexpected call from Lisa Anderson: "Are you alright? Wow! Debbie really is a saint!"

"I have no problem."

"Let's find an opportunity to invite them out for fun. We'll go sea fishing after Christmas."

My friend's girlfriend is a saint, how exciting!

As for the fact that the Holy Maiden cannot get married, isn't she still unmarried now?

"No problem!" Richard had long wanted to visit Hart Island and maybe try causing an accident.

Boom!

Henry Carter angrily slammed the phone to the ground.

"Damn it! Another shooting? Have people gone mad? A postdoc, a researcher, why would he kill someone?"

As one of the top universities in the United States, the Princeton shooting had a very negative impact.

This kind of case is not comparable to a small shooting at a golf course.

More than thirty people died at once, many of whom were children of powerful and wealthy people.

Not only did the public have serious concerns about public safety, but more importantly, the bigwigs were furious and questioned the NYPD chief's ability to govern.

Mayor Manderson had just called and given him a piece of his mind, because Mayor Manderson had also been scolded by a group of important people and could only vent his anger on Henry.

Henry Carter himself had to take more than a dozen phone calls over two hours to calm the anger of the powerful and privileged parents.

This is just the beginning; the powerful and wealthy parents of the dead and injured students will not let this go.

Henry Carter was feeling extremely overwhelmed.

The aftermath of the NYPD fire hasn't been fully resolved, and now this has happened!

Given the pace of infrastructure development in the United States, it would take at least three years to rebuild the headquarters building.

It's ridiculous that the NYPD, a prestigious organization, doesn't even have a headquarters anymore.

He could only order people to find a temporary headquarters for the NYPD while simultaneously dispersing all the headquarters staff to various precincts.

Office space is extremely limited right now; even he himself has to squeeze into a small, private office.

The others, including the various police superintendents, didn't even have their own offices!

What's more troublesome is that this fire has also triggered a variety of follow-up problems.

Internal corruption within the NYPD led to the failure of fire safety measures.

Byron's dereliction of duty led to inadequate oversight.

Firefighters also discovered various problems while fighting the fire, including that many fire hydrants were dry, which meant they didn't extinguish the fire until dawn.

Of course, this could also be the firefighters making excuses for their incompetence. Ever since the Twin Towers incident, these bastards have been shirking their duties, and it's very likely they're just making up some excuse to shift the blame.

The scene of the fire was too chaotic, and Henry Carter still has no way of knowing exactly what happened.

The worst thing is that bastard Miles; he's still missing.

Is this guy really an arsonist who ran off to Canada?

Henry, who had initially tried to shift the blame, is now starting to have some doubts himself.

So far, the police haven't even found Miles' car.

All sorts of troubles came crashing down at the same time, leaving Henry almost breathless.

Now, his primary task is to determine the candidate for Chief Superintendent of Police.

Everyone knew that Miles was bound to step down this time.

If he's the arsonist, then he's doomed.

If not, given that the fire had burned for a day and Miles, as the Superintendent of Police, had not shown up, he would also be held responsible and would have no choice but to resign.

Henry wrote three names on the paper: O'Connor, Warren-Fletcher, and Samuel-Stone.

He was still hesitating, unsure of who to choose.

Oh, and there's that woman Isabella, who brazenly took charge of the IAB's work and even claimed to have appointed her herself!

Have you officially been appointed to my MF position?

Have some shame, will you?

He opened the personnel list again, preparing to find someone to help him stabilize the IAB.

Isabella won't do; that bitch is too hard to control!

Just then, the door was flung open, and Isabella walked in with a cold expression, asking bluntly, "Why haven't you announced me as acting head of general affairs yet?"

Henry Carter's eyes widened.

Listen to this tone of voice, is this how you talk to the police chief?

"Get out of here!"

The endless stream of troubles had already overwhelmed him, and he really had no energy left to argue with a jerk.

The office outside is full of subordinates. The soundproofing in this office is very poor, unlike the headquarters office, where you can easily hear people outside if you speak loudly.

Everyone was craning their necks to look inside, wondering what kind of argument the two had.

At this moment, Isabella took out her phone and started playing a video.

Everyone is fighting for their own interests, and at this time, no one will care about her. She must first take advantage of her own benefits.

A video of a man and woman fighting was broadcast.

Henry's face turned deathly pale, then ashen, and finally filled with disbelief.

"You actually—" He slammed the door shut in a panic and closed the blinds. "Damn it! Don't make such a loud noise! ​​Why did you take pictures of this?!"

Isabella put her phone in her pocket and said casually, "So, can we talk about our work at the IAB?"

Henry wanted nothing more than to kill Isabella; he really couldn't afford to create any more trouble!

He could only suppress his anger and fear, quickly silencing the question: "Fine, I'll immediately appoint you as acting head of general affairs. Once Byron's crimes are substantiated and he's officially removed from office, I'll make you the permanent head of general affairs!"

Isabella's expression immediately shifted from anger to delight, and she giggled, kissing Henry on the cheek: "I knew Chief Carter would make a smart choice. You've always been good in bed, let's meet up again sometime."

She left with a smile.

Henry Carter felt unwell.

Isabella's lips kissed his face, and it felt like being kissed by a venomous snake, filling him with fear and disgust.

Like a ferocious beast that will devour its prey!

He rubbed his face frantically, trying to rouse himself to deal with the terrible and chaotic situation.

That damn bitch actually filmed this video, is she crazy?

Isn't she afraid of ruining her reputation?

Oh, she really isn't afraid, because the entire NYPD knows that's the kind of person she is.

Fk!

Isabella left the room.

In the instant she kissed Henry Carter, she saw a piece of white paper on the table with three names written on it: O'Connor, Warren, and Samuel.

This is the candidate for Commissioner General of Police.

She saw an opportunity and picked up the phone to call O'Connor.

O'Connor's voice came through, serious, rigid, and distant: "Ms. Rossi."

Isabella licked her lips: "I can help you get the position of Commissioner of Police, but we need to cooperate with each other."

O'Connor's breath hitched for a moment: "I don't understand what you're talking about. I only follow the chief's orders."

Isabella sneered, "I just saw a piece of paper on Henry's desk with your name, Warren's name, and Samuel's name on it. Guess what kind of list it is?"

O'Connor took a deep breath and said after a few seconds, "I think we really need to have a serious talk."

"Great. Come to my house tonight."

O'Connor resisted: "Is this how you always communicate with people? It's too direct."

"Of course. The more direct the communication, the deeper it can go, and the deeper it goes, the more it can enhance mutual understanding, right?"

Isabella deliberately emphasized the word "deep".

O'Connor, however, was very cautious.

He knew this venomous beauty all too well—she was ruthless, despicable, vicious, and shameless.

"We can talk, but not at your place. I'll send you a location."

"No problem." Isabella laughed heartily, not caring where she was at all.

She hung up the phone and started putting on makeup.

Every man is like this at the beginning, reserved and cautious, but once they taste the sweetness, they are like children who have eaten candy, and they lose their vigilance as they eat.

All men are like that.

Warren-Fletcher was too ugly; he didn't fit her aesthetic.

Samuel Stone headed the Marine Police Department, which was independent but did not have much power.

Only O'Connor can offer her greater assistance.

More importantly, it was Brian, that lion-like man, who made him do everything he could to help O'Connor.