Chapter 9 Sheffield House
Rumor has it that in the entire industry, there are two areas in Los Angeles where ordinary people absolutely dare not cause trouble. Once someone causes trouble, either he is mentally ill or he is a tough guy, or he is a rich second-generation idiot who has money and power.

As for which area, one is the super wealthy area centered on Hollywood and Beverly Hills, and the other is the wealthy area headed by San Marino and Pasadena.

Yorks was wearing comfortable casual clothes and controlled the Fl50 Raptor with one hand, driving from another street into Santa Monica Boulevard and heading towards Beverly Hills.

"Sure enough, the patrol intensity in the wealthy areas is indeed much stronger."

York turned an intersection and looked at his patrol colleague who was only about ten meters away, feeling a little sad.

There are fights and deaths in other areas, and troubles are everywhere, but it doesn't affect here. It relies on the patrol strength, and the attitude of the patrol officers is tough, just like what we saw today. Once any situation occurs, there will be fights and deaths.

Why? Because these patrolmen know that they can’t do anything about these situations because there are rich people protecting them.

"It's worthy of being a paradise for the rich." Yorks withdrew his gaze from the patrolman and continued driving the Fl50 Raptor into the main road of Beverly Hills.

Finally, we drove through the prosperous area outside and slowly entered a roundabout. On one side of this roundabout were towering marble walls.

When Yorks drove into another intersection and headed straight toward the avenue inside, the luxurious manor gate appeared before his eyes.

This is a tall iron door, inlaid with gold and silver patterns, showing the owner's luxurious taste. In fact, Yorks really wants to complain in his heart. No matter how he looks at it, he feels that it is too high-profile, like a nouveau riche...

But seeing that the manor gate was opened by no one, York could only step on the accelerator lightly and drive in slowly. When passing a very obscure camera next to the gate, he put the index and middle fingers of his left hand together and tapped his forehead, making a gesture to the security guards inside.

"Thank you."

After making the gesture, York drove into the avenue familiarly, and behind his car was the gate of the manor which was slowly closing.

Not long after, York finally parked his car in the lobby in front of a multi-residential building, picked up the things he had bought long ago from the passenger side, and got out of the car without even taking the keys.

Walk towards the butler who is coming over.

"Curtis, please help me wash my car." York smiled at the middle-aged man who had been working here for almost ten years.

"Okay." Curtis responded respectfully.

York patted him on the shoulder, walked towards the door, and stepped into the home where he had lived for more than 20 years.

The structure of his family members in this life is actually very simple. The only elder is grandfather Michael Sheffield, the patriarch of the Sheffield family, who has two sons.

The first son is his father, Russell Sheffield, the chief of the Los Angeles Police Department and the chief superintendent, and his mother, Valerie Sheffield, a jewelry designer.

He had three children: York Sheffield was the eldest brother, Frank Sheffield was the second brother, and Lillian Sheffield was the third sister.

Finally, there is the uncle's family. Uncle Graeme Sheffield is responsible for the Sheffield family's gold bag, and Aunt Mireille Sheffield is a well-known gold medal lawyer in the industry.

She has a cousin, Gnaj Sheffield, and a cousin, Emily Sheffield.

These people are his family in this life.

As soon as you enter, you are greeted by a very hot atmosphere.

There were already people in the hall, scattered around like fallen leaves. There were people in the living room, the kitchen, and other corners.

Naturally, his mother and aunt were in the kitchen, and his second brother, who was already in college, was busy helping out. It was not that there were no servants to cook, but the food on family gatherings was usually prepared by themselves.

There were several men sitting on the sofa in the living room, looking leisurely, and a baseball game was playing on the big TV in front of them.

In the corner were his younger brothers and sisters of the same age. Seeing them chattering together with their tablets, they were probably talking about some game or something else.

"Yorks!"

The crisp cry attracted everyone's attention. Before everyone in the kitchen, living room and corner could look over, a girl as tall as his chin ran over excitedly from the living room.

The tight-fitting top and jeans generously show off her body curves. She has short brown hair, fair and delicate skin, a slightly straight nose on her cute face, and big eyes like two bright stars. The slightly exposed dimples make her every move look playful and cute.

It was his 13-year-old sister, Lillian, who was about to attend the high school department of Harvard-Westlake School.

Speaking of Harvard-Westlake School, we have to mention it. Its high school is considered to be the top among private high schools in Los Angeles, California, and is even ranked among the best in the United States.

This is enough to show that Lillian is a top student, because she was admitted based on her own ability.

As for why you should go to private schools, those who understand will understand. In free America, the essence of elite education is basically in private schools.

The thought flashed through his mind, and seeing Lillian about to pounce on him, Yorks was quick-eyed and quick-handed and reached out to grab her forehead to hold back her momentum.

Lillian froze and stopped moving for a moment, her hands resting on his chest, her eyes wide open, as if she had not expected York to refuse her hug.

Yorks patted her forehead gently: "I don't want to drag you, a follower, along."

Speaking of which, the relationship between the three siblings is really good. The second brother and the third sister were always very attached to him when they were young, and they would cry their eyes out when he was not around.

Lillian covered her forehead and curled her lips: "Who is the follower!"

"Yes, you are not." Yorks did not argue with her. This guy was eccentric and always had some twisted logic. If they argued, he, an ordinary person, would be no match for the elementary school bully.

After all, his thinking, talents, etc. had already been shaped in his previous life. He worked so hard in his previous life but could only get into an ordinary university. It is impossible for him to be much stronger in this life.

If it weren't for the cheat, he would have been just a salted fish in this life. Even if he was born in this wealthy family, he would be at most an ordinary rich second generation, nothing special, and it would be embarrassing to take him out.

Unlike his second brother, Full, who already has the potential to be a top talent and has begun to show his potential, even he, as the eldest brother, feels proud and cool when he tells others about it.

"Hehe." Lillian didn't care and hugged her brother's arm as he walked by.

"Did you buy me a present?"

Hearing this, Yorks pulled the burden into the public eye, glanced at a white-haired old man with a kind smile sitting on the sofa in the living room, and answered with certainty.

"No, you know your brother is just a poor guy now, and he owes someone a huge sum of money!"

(End of this chapter)