75-Year-Old Husband Protects Wife from Gangsters, Gang Leader Comes to Him at Night – Story of the Day

75-year-old Harold saves his wife from gangsters when they misbehave with her at a grocery store and thinks it's over after the thugs flee the scene. But things take a scary turn for the older couple when the evil men gather outside their house for revenge.

"Excuse me, could you please stop pushing?" Emma, 67, was disgusted as two tattooed men standing before her in the grocery queue brushed against her body.

Harold stood behind her, and he thought the guys had mistakenly touched his wife, but he was wrong.

The thugs chuckled, hurling nasty remarks at Emma, and eventually pushed her aggressively.

"Stop misbehaving with my wife! Didn't your parents teach you to respect seniors?! Huh?!" Harold shouted as he helped Emma...

The thugs exchanged a glance and burst out laughing. "What will you do if we don't 'respect' you, oldie? Hit us with that stupid walking stick of yours?!"

"Oh, I'll show you what I can do!" Harold grabbed the thug's collar and twisted his arm, sending him shrieking and wincing in pain. "In my time, people with tattoos were deemed idiots, and little has changed since then! Let me teach you to respect the hard way, boy!"

The other shoppers were stunned by Harold's boldness. Suddenly, the thug slipped out a Bowie knife from his leather jacket, and chaos erupted. Everyone stepped back.

"Hunter, what are you doing? Put it inside! Everyone's watching!" the other guy yelled. He, thankfully, intervened, and Harold let go of Hunter's collar.

"You will pay for this old man! I won't let you slide!" Hunter spat on the floor as he and his mate fled the grocery.

On their way home, Emma was worried about the incident at the store, but Harold consoled her, ensuring her they wouldn't cross paths with the thugs again.

The older couple enjoyed a romantic candlelight dinner that evening, as they did every Saturday, and Emma kissed Harold goodnight before curling up cozily in their bed.

But Harold couldn't sleep as fragments of the grocery store incident kept replaying in his mind. He decided to read a book and take his mind off things, but suddenly a crashing sound from outside distracted him.

It was strange, considering they didn't have any immediate neighbors, and the sounds seemed like something heavy was being dragged right under their bedroom window.

Harold looked at the bedside clock and saw it was half past three. Pulling his robe closer, he quietly got out of bed, careful enough not to wake Emma.

Harold went downstairs to inspect what was happening when a Molotov cocktail hurtled through the window, causing a fiery explosion in the kitchen.

Harold's body shivered as he looked from the kitchen to the broken glass window. Outside, he saw several masked men and then came in another series of crude bombs through the window, relentlessly, without a pause.

"Jesus, what's going on? Oh, oh, God!" Harold's forehead was sweaty, as he was panicking, wondering about what to do, how to stop the fire.

Right then, he saw the guys leaving, but one of them removed their mask, and Harold recognized him. Hunter smiled wickedly as he disappeared out the gate.

Harold coughed as flames spread to every corner of the living room. He dashed upstairs and returned with a startled Emma cradled in his arms.

"Emma, darling, are you alright?" he asked, laying her on the lawn as they exited through the backdoor.

"I need an ambulance," Harold sobbed, dialing 911. "Please, hurry. My wife...She's having a heart attack."

After transporting Emma to the hospital, Harold rushed to the police station to file a complaint about the thugs. "They dared to break into my property to kill my wife and me!" he cried to the sheriff.

The officer immediately contacted the control room and asked for CCTV footage of the store and nearby streets, but unfortunately, none of the cameras were working.

"I'll suggest you stop wasting our time, sir. We can't file a complaint without evidence," the sheriff said, gesturing to him to leave. Harold noticed a tattoo like an emblem on the cop's hand.

"But…there must be something you could do, officer!" he requested, but all his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Harold left the station and returned to his car, deciding to visit Emma. As he buckled his seatbelt, his phone rang.

"Mr. Martinez, we're sorry…" The voice on the other end of the line informed Harold that Emma passed away.

The older man quietly ended the call but couldn't muster the courage to see his beloved's wife's pale face under an ugly white sheet.

He remained in his car, staring into the void when suddenly, he saw the sheriff crossing the street. The officer looked around before getting into a car, and Harold's eyes were wide as saucers when he saw the driver's face.

"Hunter? That guy who killed my Emma?" Harold wondered angrily as he turned on his car's ignition and began following the sheriff's car.

After what seemed like an eternity, the SUV took a diversion into the woods on the town's outskirts, and as the vehicle stopped, Harold saw the sheriff step out of the car along with other thugs.

Harold silently followed the men as they scurried through the bushes and gasped at seeing a massive warehouse. Then he noticed two vans outside the building with gang members loading crates of weapons into one of them.

"Cornell's Emporium," read the logo on vans. And Harold's hands went to his mouth in shock when he saw the cop shaking hands with Mr. Cornell, whose face was in the logos. The gangsters and Mr. Cornell were together!

Harold shakily pulled out his phone and began recording while eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Great job, guys!" Hunter turned to his men. "The cargo is ready to be dispatched."

As Harold saw the vans preparing to leave, he decided to follow them. The two vans split up at the intersection, and Harold quickly followed one of them.

After an hour-long chase, the van pulled over at Cornell's Emporium, an acclaimed fashion boutique chain.

Harold discreetly waited in his car until the thugs were out of sight. He then took out his phone and approached the van, determined to get the thugs behind bars for the suspicious arms dealing.

But Harold was taken aback when he opened the van's unsecured door. "What? Only clothes? But I saw ammunition with my own eyes!"

"Seems like you ain't getting your revenge tonight, old man!" Right then, a gruff voice startled Harold from behind. When he turned around, he saw Mr. Cornell, accompanied by the thugs, including Hunter.

"Allow me to explain, oldie," Mr. Cornell scoffed, gripping Harold's collar. "These are for my charity event tomorrow. Homeless people will sing my praises before the cameras at the fair, securing my victory in the mayoral elections! Did you think you could ruin my plan or that we wouldn't notice you spying on us?"

Harold tried to squeeze his way out, but he was no match to the bulky thug.

"Looks like he's also got a talent for filming, Mr. Cornell!" Hunter snatched Harold's phone and smashed it under his boot. Before the older man would react, he felt a strong blow at the back of his head, and it all went black for him.

When he opened his eyes, Harold realized he was in a basement. His head pounded as he looked around, trying to find a way out. The door wouldn't budge, but he heard noises and peered through the window to see the gangsters loading more crates into the van.

"At any cost, the main cargo has to reach Virginia in two days. It's a million-dollar deal. Hurry up, boys, the van leaves in the morning," Harold eavesdropped on the conversation, and an idea struck him.

He set a heap of old cardboard boxes on fire, and in mere seconds, the fire alarm went off throughout the building, unlocking all the doors. Chaos erupted in the emporium as people shopping for clothes hastily ran around to safety, thinking a fire had broken out in the building.

"Cornell and his men will now know what this 'old Idiot' is capable of!'' Harold scowled to his heart's content as he escaped from the basement and vanished into the night.

The following morning, hundreds of people gathered to see the wealthy Mr. Cornell and receive donations from the charity event he had organized. When Mr. Cornell ascended the stage to deliver his speech, all eyes were on him.

"It's an honor to serve the residents of our town," Mr.Cornell began as people listened excitedly. "My father once said, 'Give back to the society that helped you grow…that sculpted your success,' and here I am…to honor my late father's words."

Cornell pointed to the van.

''Today, on behalf of Cornell's Emporium, we will distribute brand-new clothes and shoes to all of you! Hunter, my son, please open the van door and do the honors."

When Hunter unlocked the van, guns, grenades, and explosives popped out of the crates. People panicked, and someone called the cops. Within a matter of minutes, police cruisers and K-9 squads arrived, and Mr. Cornell was startled when they charged toward him with handcuffs.

"It's now fair and square!" Harold dusted his hands as he watched Mr. Cornell and his men being loaded into the police cruisers. Satisfied in getting even with his wrongdoers, Harold turned around to leave when a sudden tap on his shoulder stopped him.

"Mr. Martinez, FBI Officer Carl,'' an officer said. ''You have to report to our office tomorrow."

Harold sat in the FBI office the following morning when Officer Carl entered.

"Ah, Mr. Martinez! I wanted to begin by thanking you, but a question has been bothering me since yesterday," Officer Carl broke Harold's silence. ''How did the van with the weapons get there at the charity?''

Harold smiled and pulled out his business card. "Tow Truck Driver, H. Martinez?!'' Officer Carl exclaimed at seeing the words on it.

"When I found out the location of the two vans, all I had to do was switch them with my truck!" Harold replied with a smile.

As Harold left the office that day, he bought a bouquet of Emma's favorite white roses and headed to the cemetery to spend time with his beloved wife.

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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a poor older man who never let anyone inside his house until one day, his neighbor rushed there after hearing a loud crash, only to find the older man dead in the basement.

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