Naturally, the other Turnbulls were less than friendly toward Frank.
Other than Vicky, they all had looks of a constipated person whenever they glanced Frank’s way.
He was a real piece of work, but they could neither snap at him nor chase him away.
Hurt him? They were still counting on him to cure George!
All they could do was to defame him in private, even blaming him for George’s condition when he contracted it six months ago.
Frank did not care at all—it was the last day of treatment for George and the day of the Turnbulls’ annual dinner.
Starting from the morning, luxurious cars were driving into the Turnbull estate, with men and women striding in as they attended the prestigious banquet.
They were all family or regional executives, all of them embodying the might of the Turnbulls as one of the Four Families of Morhen.
Naturally, Frank could see that not the entire family was gathered just yet.
–
At the center of the dazzling banquet hall, countless servants were hurrying around busily, lining the tables with exquisite dishes and countless glasses of expensive wine.
Frank stood at a corner, watching as hundreds of Turnbull family members and executives mingled.
They were all the backbone to the family empire—and it was always this grand and lively every year.
“What are you still doing here?” Yonca Wells asked, striding over to Frank when she happened to finish a conversation and spot him in the corner.
Though she clearly appeared disgruntled, Frank chuckled in her face, unmoved. “What, do you want to chase me away right now?”
“Hmph.”
Yonca snorted, pursing her lips. “This is our family’s annual dinner, and outsiders aren’t allowed here. You’re already done curing Mr. Turnbull too, so can’t you go back to your pig sty in the outer reaches?”
Frank remained calm despite her insults and pointed at Titus who was chatting with Glen in the distance. “So, Titus Lionheart is a Turnbull too?”
Yonca turned and saw Titus in his tailored suit and refined mannerisms, and she quickly turned back to shoot Frank a look of disdain. “He’ll be family eventually. Who do you think you are compared to him? Don’t you understand your place at all?”
“Nope,” Frank shook his head and replied quietly. “All I know is that I’ve beaten him.”
Despite his pleasant conversation with Glen, Titus seemed to sense Frank’s stare just then.
He turned, his gaze turning sinister even as Frank continued, “Twice. And naturally, it’s going to happen a third time.”
Yonca rolled her eyes at Frank’s conceited gloating and left.
After all, if Glen could not stop Frank from attending this dinner, whatever she said was pointless.
Even snide remarks got her a slap in the face.
Titus soon arrived with a glass of wine in hand, rearing his chin to shoot Frank a lofty glare. “I’m surprised you’d stay, Mr. Lawrence. I must admit that you have balls.”
“It’s just that yours are smaller,” Frank chuckled with a scowl.
He absent-mindedly picked up a glass of wine from the table and clinked it with Titus’.
