Staring at the blood splatter and remains sticking to the wall, Zac sighed. “Build a cenotaph for Mr. Ziege. It’s only thanks to him that I’m alive.”
“Mr. Turnbull…”
The Turnbull family bodyguards watched as Frank left and whispered into Zac’s ear, “Are we just going to let him go to Turnbull House? Your brother gave express orders not to let him get in touch with Ms. Turnbull, not even through phone calls… Ms. Blue is clearly going against that, so shouldn’t we punish her per family law?”
“Family law?” Zac shook his head, chuckling ironically. “We’d all be dead if not for Frida Blue. If there’s anyone who needs to be punished…”
Yonca’s lofty face appeared in Zac’s mind right then.
–
Soon, Frank arrived at Turnbull House in Frida’s car.
As expected of one of the Four Families of Morhen, they certainly lived differently—somehow, their furnishings and houses were a class above the Jankos.
Marble statues, artistic works, and expensive vases lined the courtyard and hallways, each of them worth a fortune.
Not every family could be that extravagant.
Frida drove the luxury car over the red carpet-lined road, stopping outside a massive reception hall.
“Mr. Turnbull is waiting for you inside, Mr. Lawrence. Do go in,” Frida said after opening the door for him, pointing at the majestic building sitting atop the towering stairs.
“Shouldn’t I be checking on George Turnbull first?” Frank said, just wanting to get it over with and see Vicky instead of continuing to tussle with the Turnbull family.
Frida’s mouth hung open. “It’s Mr. Turnbull’s orders. I…”
“Got it.” Frank sighed.
He knew it was pointless to pester Frida, and she had done her best in helping him contact Vicky.
He strode up the stairs, and two servants in tailcoats opened the door for him.
Having nothing to fear, Frank straightened his collar and held his head high as he entered the gigantic parlor.
It was very spacious, filled with every variety of artistic works. Even a novice like Frank could see how valuable they were, and he actually thought for a moment that he had left Draconia and was visiting a foreign museum.
“You’re here, Mr. Lawrence.” Glen was waiting ahead, and enthusiastically offered a handshake—he was friendly to Frank, at least.
Frank, however, did not play along.
“Where’s your father?” he asked quietly. “Don’t waste my time.”
“Huh…”
While Glen was left feeling awkward since Frank did not shake his hand, what he was about to say would make things even more awkward.
“Well… Mr. Lawrence,” he said. “I’m afraid I have to apologize… Titus Lionheart has sent in the best doctor from abroad to treat my father.”
“So I’m not needed?”
Frank pursed his lips and shrugged. “Well, where’s Vicky? Take me to her.”
Seeing that Frank had not given up, Glen’s cheek stiffened and he smiled apologetically. “Well, since you’re not helping my father, then the deal between you and my niece is moot, don’t you agree?”
