A wicked grin stretched across his face, accentuating the corners of his mouth as he let out a sarcastic laugh. The lines etched on his weathered face hinted at a man accustomed to scheming and deceit. His thoughts simmered with a potent mix of disdain and resentment."What did Richard take me for?" he pondered, his voice laced with bitterness. His son had toiled relentlessly for Richard, dedicating countless years to his service. Yet, in the end, Richard had deemed his obstinate offspring as the sole heir to his domain. The cacophony of injustice echoed in his mind."And now, the goddamn son is dead," he continued, his voice devoid of remorse. Richard had laid claim to the grandchild, appointing them as chairman, while his own grandchild had dutifully served, unnoticed and unappreciated, throughout the countless years.His face remained a mask of defiance, as if daring anyone to challenge him or underestimate his capacity for vengeance. In that moment, he vowed to himself that he wou
Uncle Raymond and Ethan sat in the car, their brows furrowed as they searched through the information the detective had provided. Their eyes darted back and forth, searching for any sign that could shed light on the mysterious calls.Looking up from the papers, Ethan's gaze swept across the household, secretly observing each family member's reaction. His eyes keenly captured their expressions, seeking any hints of guilt or suspicion."I think the only person making strange calls is Clinton," Uncle Raymond proposed, breaking the silence. The weight of his words hung in the air, as he pointed out the family member who seemed most likely to be involved. Ethan pondered his uncle's observation, considering whether Clinton's peculiar behavior could indeed be linked to the calls.However, Ethan's head shook from side to side, indicating his disagreement. While Clinton might have been making odd calls, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this mystery than met the eye. Some
In response, Grandpa Tristan let out a soft chuckle, a gentle sound filled with understanding and empathy. It conveyed that he recognized the weight and significance of Raymond's words and the raw, authentic emotions behind them. There was a hint of regret in his voice, an undertone of remorse as he bravely acknowledged the depths of his past mistakes. It was in this moment that the truth of his neglect and the heartbreak that had shaped his actions unfolded, laying bare before them. Genuine sadness, like an invisible thread, wove through his words as he expressed his own lingering heartbreak and the undeniable compulsion that had kept him distant for far too long. This was an opportune moment for him to confront his shortcomings as a father, to openly admit his failure, and to genuinely express remorse for the pain he had caused.The room lingered in a somber atmosphere, as emotions continued to weigh heavily on Raymond and Grandpa Tristan. They both grappled with the immense magnitu
Grandpa Tristan stood tall, his weathered face etched with lines of frustration and determination. With a deep breath, he contemplated the weight of his decision. "The more I tried to rid myself of you and your family, Richard," he confessed, "the more your lineage multiplied. It left me with no choice but to involve your granddaughter-in-law and your great-grandchild in this tumultuous affair." A hint of a cunning smirk danced on his lips as he began to make his way towards his apartment. The anticipation of claiming what he believed was rightfully his fueled his every step.As Grandpa Tristan stepped into his apartment, his gait filled with an air of purpose, a symphony of alerts chimed from his phone. With a flicker of curiosity, he glanced at the screen, where a series of messages awaited his attention. Each vibrating ping whispered a new revelation into his ears."Be cautious, Sir," the first message warned, punctuated by urgency. "Your son and his nephew are prepared to traverse
Claire smiled, her eyes filled with adoration, as she watched him talk. She couldn't help but wonder how a man could be so cute, even to the point of feeling a twinge of jealousy towards their unborn child. His presence alone had made her utterly obsessed with him."I don't know," Claire said, playfully knocking his head. He winced in pain, his attention still fixated on her as she stepped into the room.He felt an overwhelming rush of excitement, grateful to have such a stunning lady who always brought him happiness. Yet, the persistent issue haunted him again, sending his mind spiraling into a state of madness. It was imperative for him to identify the culprit swiftly.A chilling realization struck him: the person might be targeting his wife and unborn child, if their motive was truly directed towards him. With a sense of urgency, he cautiously approached the window, peering out to see a figure draped in a black dress from head to toe. As soon as their eyes met, the figure abruptly
Ethan's heart softened as he observed Mr. Clinton's weary expression, understanding that he was going through a great deal of emotional turbulence. Deciding to offer his support, Ethan chose to be a source of solace for him. "You don't need to dwell too deeply on things; everything is going to be okay," Ethan reassured, a glimmer of empathy in his voice. "You should take the time to focus on yourself and understand that you're doing your best as a father." His encouraging words hung in the air, and Mr. Clinton nodded in agreement, visibly touched by Ethan's understanding."Thank you, young master. I truly appreciate your kind words," Mr. Clinton acknowledged, gently patting Ethan's shoulder. "I also hope that you will grow into a wonderful father in the future." Ethan nodded in gratitude, reciprocating Mr. Clinton's positive sentiment."I should get going," Mr. Clinton let out, his voice tinged with resignation as he made his way towards the door. Ethan couldn't help but feel reliev
Ethan drove down to the designated location where he was to meet Johnson. As he arrived, he spotted Johnson patiently waiting inside a bustling bar. Eagerly, Ethan made his way inside and approached Johnson, who greeted him with a warm smile. Taking a seat opposite him, they exchanged a firm handshake. "I must admit, I didn't anticipate you being here so promptly," Johnson remarked, to which Ethan simply nodded in agreement.The doctor proved to be surprisingly prompt, much quicker than expected. However, upon meeting with the doctor, Ethan's hopes of obtaining what he needed were dashed. Frustrated and determined, he had come to meet Johnson, hoping to find a solution."What do you have for me?" Ethan demanded, his curiosity piqued as Johnson slid a stack of papers toward him. His hands trembling slightly with anticipation, Ethan eagerly opened the documents.As his eyes scanned the pages, a profound shock coursed through his veins. Photographs of the scar he had spoken about were t
Ethan, with a determined glint in his eyes, embarked on a strategic mission to sway their opinion, cunningly feigning surrender. Concealing his true intent, he carefully orchestrated a plan, cognizant that his grandaunt held the key to unlocking the truth he sought. Deep within him, a fervent desire burned to unravel the mystery behind the designs adorning the gloves. In his exhaustive research, he had stumbled upon a tantalizing possibility - that these gloves were not a product of a single creator, but rather a collaboration between their mother and another unknown artist. Drawing upon his ancestral knowledge, he learned that their great grandmother possessed a penchant for crafting intricate patterns, and he couldn't help but theorize that her artistic DNA had found its way into the gloves. Entrusting the task to his great aunt, Ethan hoped she would possess the insight and wisdom to confirm his suspicions.Ethan, eager to reconnect with his long-lost grandaunt Lydia, approached h