“Please, Glen…” Tamon reasoned. “He murdered Sif Lionheart, an heiress of the Lionhearts! They will come after us! You need to see the big picture here!” “The big picture…”
Glen paused, but he soon chuckled in disdain and passed Tamon an opened letter. “Why don’t you read this letter that the Martial Alliance just delivered?” “Please be informed that the mayor of Morhen sends his apologies for misblaming the Turnbull family…”
As Tamon kept reading, his face stiffened, and he dropped limply to the floor when he saw the Morhen mayor’s personal signature at the bottom, dumbstruck. Quentin quickly asked, “Dad, who’s that letter from? What does it say?”
“I-It’s from the mayor…”
Tamon gulped. “He found out everything, and the Lionhearts admitted the truth, while putting the blame entirely on Sif… They’re saying that Titus killed her to make amends, even delivering her body to the mayoral residence…”
“Hmph. Stubborn fools.” Glen snorted as he took back the letter. “The Lionhearts are perfectly willing to take the blame, but you lot are busy worrying about surrendering to them. Talk about embarrassing!” Then, turning toward the family bodyguards and blackguards, he said coolly, “A branch family has been found guilty of leading a coup to overthrow the main family. Do I have to tell you what the family rules dictate in this situation?”
Despite his age, Tamon dropped to his knees in front of Glen right then, crying, “Please, Glen! I-I didn’t mean it! We’d never stage a coup. I’m begging you—”
“Go. Get them out of here,” Glen snapped, denying them even the time to beg for mercy.
The blackguards and bodyguards quickly dragged Tamon and his cronies away, and their cries faded into the distance as well.
Glen glanced at Vicky, grimacing when he saw her facial scars.
Then, turning to Frank with a nod, he said, “The Turnbull family owes you again, Frank.”
With that, he left.
In the evening, Frank, Glen and the rest of the Turnbulls were waiting at the gates.
Eventually a convoy of black
Rolls-Royces pulled up outside, and an unscathed Walter Turnbull alighted on his own without
assistance, even thanking the other person inside the car before he left.
Said person simply waved at him before ordering the chauffeur to drive away, and the convoy left as soon as they arrived.
Glen walked up to Walter right then, exclaiming in relief, “Walter, you look well!”
He had certainly been worried, as he was convinced that Walter would at least be given a vicious beating after he was taken to the mayor’s residence-if not outright flayed.
Somehow, Walter was unscathed, even appearing lively as if being offered a VIP’s hospitality.
As a bawling Susan Redford threw
herself into Walter’s arms, Walter found Frank standing quietly among the crowd, and he nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Mr. Lawrence. I don’t think I’d be alive if not for you.”
