Glen said, “I’ll go to him. I just hope I can convince him to help Father and to give up on Vicky—if he does, we’ll make it worth his while.”
Yonca immediately snapped at his suggestion. “Absolutely not! You have no idea how pompous that brat gets. It’s impossible to make him give up on Vicky! If you prostrate yourself, forget being grateful—it would only make him even more conceited!”
“Glen.” Zac stood up as well. “I could get more men and bring him over by force.”
“Watch yourself!” Glen barked, bellowing spiritedly at his brother despite his ripe age of sixty. “Who on earth ever forces a healer to work against their will?! And don’t worry—I’m prepared to reward him more than what he deserves. Anything is agreeable as long as Father lives.”
Stroking his beard and smiling, he added, “We won’t have to worry about him refusing us.”
“Let’s just hope the kid knows his place.” Zac sighed.
They were all certainly guilty toward Vicky—they all knew her from childhood, and to sacrifice her for a political marriage hurt their conscience.
However, the South Sea Crow was a bomb about to blow up in their faces at any moment, keeping them constantly on edge.
If anything, George’s weird sickness could well be her doing!
“Call Frida Blue,” Glen said quietly nonetheless. “Just the two of us will do it. There’s no need for anyone else.”
“Don’t joke around!” Zac cried. “You could get killed if he suddenly attacks you!”
They all knew that Frank was a martial elite, with emphasis on elite.
Glen would be walking into the proverbial lion’s den if he went alone, as only Zac was the only one who passed for a martial artist in the family.
“No, I don’t think anyone Vicky takes a liking to is that vile,” Glen said, waving Zac off. “As long as I show that I can be reasonable, I’m sure he would be too. Now stop trying to talk me out of it—I’ll meet Vicky’s beloved personally.”
“Okay.”
The other Turnbulls nodded reluctantly.
–
Half an hour later, a limited edition Bentley arrived outside Nash Yego’s cottage, and Glen alighted in his pinstripe suit, white shawl, and dragonhead cane.
“What…”
As he slowly strode into the cottage, Nash saw him and quickly bowed. “Mr. Turnbull.”
“It’s alright. You don’t have to be so formal.” Glen smiled faintly, his tone mild.
His eyes had a blazing intensity and he carried himself with pomp, but he was not all that arrogant.
“Hmm. So the head of the family himself has come?” Frank asked from overhead, able to see Nash bowing when Glen came in from the second floor balcony.
Frida Blue stiffened herself even as she introduced them. “Mr. Lawrence, meet Mr. Glen Turnbull, the current head of the Turnbull family and Ms. Turnbull’s eldest uncle.”
“Heh.”
Frank sneered coolly, his reaction nonchalant as he leapt from the second floor. “I don’t care who’s coming. All I want to know is if they can make me an offer I can’t refuse.”
