Hello, Mr. Major General (1)

Chapter 130 - Temperamental

The Lamborghini’s door opened and Kartik stepped out with a frigid expression. He wore a slim cut pale blue striped shirt tucked into belted black hunting trousers—the combination of the rough-hewn pants and the elegantly tailored shirt was surprisingly harmonious.

Rohit put away his phone as he was about to walk up, and turned to see several Mercedes-Benz vehicles follow
suit. Tall, dark-suited white men carrying briefcases emerged—they appeared to be elite lawyers. Rohit
stopped in his tracks. These people must be Kartik’s entourage, Rohit realized. He was happy that Kartik was bringing Shehnaaz so much support, but he was also worried and uneasy. They were all adults who were fully aware that nothing came for free in the world.

However, it made sense for Kartik to defend Shehnaaz since he was her professor, protecting her during a critical time. Rohit squinted and decided to wait and see what would happen before he proceeded with his own countermeasures.

…

Kartik stuffed both hands in his trouser pockets, his expression solemn as he walked up to the reception desk of the campus police office. He asked coldly, “Where’s Shehnaaz Gill? I’m her professor and am here to pick her up.”

The fat, black policewoman sat behind the reception desk and didn’t even look up. “Sorry, but Shehnaaz can’t be
bailed out.”

“Bail? Who said anything about bail?” Kartik’s tone became even icier as he tapped on her computer. “Let her out immediately, or I’ll sue you for illegal imprisonment. You’ll be sweeping jails for the rest of your life.”

“Huh? You say you’ll get her out without playing bail? How would you have me let her out then?” She raised her head arrogantly and eyed Kartik.

Harvard had countless professors, and she barely recognized any of them because there was no need—they had nothing to do with her job.

Kartik glared at her. “It’s a waste of time to talk to people who are so blind to the law. This is not a police station, so you have no right to bring up the word ‘bail.’ I’m going to say it one more time: let Shehnaaz go. Otherwise, you should call someone to bail you out at the actual station, ” Kartik said as he took out his phone to call the police.

The policewoman finally understood and was so terrified she shot up from the seat. She mumbled as she pointed down the hallway, “S-she’s over there… in the third cell.”

Kartik immediately turned towards the hallway. Shehnaaz had her hands cuffed on the metal frame high above her head in the campus police office’s detention center. Thankfully, she was tall enough that she didn’t have to stand on her toes. An older white policeman was smiling at her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He stood in front of Shehnaaz and surveyed her figure. Her raised arms forced her chest out and curved her back gracefully; the posture tightened her waist and made her straighten her legs.

“Young lady, you’re skin is so nice. I can’t even see the pores up close.” The campus police murmured as he reached out a hairy hand to touch her swollen cheek, “Poor thing, who did this to you?”

Shehnaaz yanked her head back to avoid his hand.

Click!

Suddenly, the sound of a cocked pistol came from the doorway. “If your hand moves forward even another millimeter, I guarantee you: it won’t be on your wrist anymore.” Kartik’s cold face suddenly appeared from the entrance of the detention center. He was holding a shiny silver pistol, its muzzle pointed directly at the old campus officer’s wrist.

He looked back and froze before slowly raising his hands in surrender. “It was a misunderstanding! It was all a
misunderstanding!”

“Misunderstanding?” Kartik took out his phone with the other hand. “I already took a photo of what you were doing. I can send you to prison for a couple decades with this if I wanted to.”