He had never experienced such a terrifying situation before. His legs trembled in fear as he immediately pulled open the car door and stepped out. "D-d-don't shoot! I—I'm a good person!" Clayton instinctively raised his hands, his voice filled with desperation. "Sirs, I—I was just giving Mr. Johnston a ride home! Please don't get the wrong idea!" Hearing this, the bodyguards exchanged glances, their eyes filled with skepticism. They looked at Clayton as if he were a fool. Wasthisguy ... for real? Thiswasthe 21st century—whowouldcasuallyshootsomeonelikethat? His reactionseemedwaytooextreme. But when Clayton saw that the bodyguards hadn't lowered their guns, he assumed they were still planning to fire. His fear escalated, and he began trembling even more. "I swear, it's true! Just look—Mr. Johnston is inside the car!"As he spoke, he pulled the car door open. Inside, Lance was leaning quietly against the seat. His entire demeanor was calm, exuding a tranquil aura. "Mr. Johnston, really?" The lead bodyguard squinted at the figure inside. He finally lowered his weapon when he confirmed the man's identity in the car. "There, there! That's more like it. Let's talk this out—no need for violence." Seeing the gun finally put away, Clayton's expression relaxed. "Why is Mr. Johnston in your car?" One of the bodyguards gestured toward Lance, trying to rouse him. "Mr. Johnston? Mr. Johnston?" But the man in the car remained completely still, showing no reaction at all. The bodyguard's face darkened instantly. His hand, which had just lowered the gun, swiftly raised it again. "What did you do to Mr. Johnston?!" With a gun pointed at him once more, Clayton instinctively clutched his head in a defensive posture. "I—I—I didn't do anything."At that moment, Lana happened to return from outside. She noticed a car parked at the entrance, surrounded by several bodyguards. Curious, she stepped forward and asked, "Who's here? What's going on?" As she leaned forward for a better look, she saw Lance sitting inside the car through the gap in the crowd. She gasped in shock. "Isn't that Mr. Johnston?!" The bodyguards grew even more agitated. "Speak! What did you do to Mr. Johnston?! "Why isn't he moving?!" "No, no! You've got it all wrong! Mr. Johnston is just drunk! I didn't do anything to him ... " But the muzzle of the gun pressed even closer to Clayton's clothing as if the trigger could be pulled at any moment. "Lies! "Mr. Johnston is known for his incredible alcohol tolerance in Halton! How could he be this drunk? "Tell the truth!" With each word, the gun inched closer. "Did you drug him?!" "I—I don't know! It wasn't me who drank with him—it was someone else! I have no idea how he got this drunk."Clayton was on the verge of tears. Lana couldn't stand it anymore. She shoved aside the bodyguard, blocking her way. "Move! Let me check on Mr. Johnston." She leaned into the car, and before she even touched him, the faint scent of alcohol, mixed with the subtle notes of cologne on Lance's body, drifted to her. For some reason, the scent had a strangely calming effect. She gently shook Lance. The man groggily half-opened his eyes, clearly still dazed and unconscious. So, he really was just drunk? "Someone come help me. Let's bring Mr. Johnston inside." Two bodyguards stepped forward at her command, carefully supporting Lance as they carried him into the Johnston Residence.