Chapter 104: Tyler and his mother did this to me

Chapter 104: Tyler and his mother did this to me "Sandra," Margaret turned to Sandra first, her voice gentle as ever. "Your original gown is ruined now. Auntie could—" "Shut up!" Sandra’s bloodshot eyes burned with fury as she glared at Margaret, her face twisted with undisguised loathing. "Spare me your fake concern. I don’t have the energy to watch your little performance—it’s nauseating!" The forced warmth on Margaret’s face shattered instantly, her eyes darkening like gathering storm clouds. "Sandra!" Tyler grabbed her arm, his expression icy. "How dare you speak to my mother like—" *SMACK!* His words were cut short by a stinging slap across his face. "You have the nerve to open your mouth?" Sandra trembled with rage, her entire body shaking as she stared at Tyler. "From childhood till now, anyone who dared to scheme against Sandra is already dead." As the words left her lips, she wrenched her wrist free from Tyler’s grip and strode toward the bed. "Tyler, I swear I’ll make Grandfather kill you—just you wait!" The wine-red evening gown lay in tatters on the floor, torn apart by brute force. Glancing at the ruined fabric, Sandra shot Tyler another venomous glare before snatching up the white guest robe prepared in the room. She draped it over herself and stormed out, slamming the door with such force that the walls trembled. Tyler’s expression darkened to its limit. "Leave her be for now," Margaret said, picking up the discarded shirt and handing it to him. "You didn’t leave any loose ends, did you?" "Loose ends?" Tyler pulled the shirt on, his face grim. "If you mean traces of tampering on that woman—no." "What do you mean?" Margaret knew her son well enough to sense there was more to his words than met the eye. "We’re running out of time. Let’s deal with those two old foxes first," she said. Tyler hesitated, unsure how to tell her that their carefully laid plans had been compromised from the very beginning. "We’ll discuss the details when we get back," he finally replied. If it could wait until they returned home, it probably wasn’t anything too serious. Reassured by that thought, Margaret didn’t press further. "I’ll be waiting outside. Be careful with that leg wound of yours." If it hadn’t been a now-or-never opportunity, they wouldn’t have gone to such lengths. But in the end, it worked. From here on out, things would only get better. --- Inside the banquet hall, whispers spread like wildfire. "Wait—that woman is Sandra?!" "Plenty of people saw her stumbling out of the lounge in a bathrobe, her hair all disheveled." "I thought Sandra was head over heels for Sinclair? Wasn’t she the type who wouldn’t even glance at another man?" "Who knows? That’s precisely why we’re looking for the younger brother. " "You mean that tired doppelgänger trope?" ... Thanks to the incident in the lounge, the banquet hall buzzed with renewed excitement. Those who usually fawned over Sandra now huddled together, sneering and mocking her with undisguised disdain. As the event neared its end, Grandpa Luther made another appearance. His expression remained unreadable as he delivered a brief closing remark before taking his leave. Neither Sinclair, Camilla, nor Jonathan and his family showed up again. In their stead, a group of Luther Family branch heads and Uncle Carlos took charge of seeing the guests off. By the time the attendees boarded their cars and departed the estate, they were still eagerly dissecting every juicy detail of the evening’s drama. It wasn’t hard to imagine—soon enough, the whole affair would be the talk of the town. The once-clear sky, dotted with stars, had turned ominously overcast by the end of the banquet. Dark clouds gathered like a vast gray curtain, looming overhead. A faint, restless tension hung in the air, as if a storm were brewing. Inside the cavernous council hall... Grandpa Luther sat solemnly in the host’s seat, slowly swirling the tea in his cup. His downcast eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts, yet the commanding aura radiating from him was palpably more oppressive than usual, casting an invisible weight over the room. Beside him, grandpa Porter pressed his lips into a thin line. His stern face was taut with suppressed fury, as though he might erupt at any moment. He knew his granddaughter all too well. To put it bluntly, even if she resorted to underhanded methods like seduction, it would only ever be directed at Sinclair. There was no conceivable way she’d ever associate with someone as disgraceful as Tyler. The only plausible explanation was that she’d been framed. And the ones who could have orchestrated this against Sandra were few in number—Sinclair undoubtedly among them. Once he uncovered the culprit, he wouldn’t rest until they paid dearly. On the other side of the room, Sinclair lounged on the sofa with his legs crossed. His strikingly handsome face remained impassive under grandpa Porter’s scrutinizing gaze, not a flicker of emotion betraying him. It was as though the person about to be brought in and the events unfolding held no significance to him whatsoever. It had nothing to do with him, and he couldn’t care less. Calvin and Taylor, who had stubbornly tagged along for the show, sat quietly sipping their tea with lowered gazes. They completely ignored the meaningful look Grandpa Porter was giving them. After all the anticipation, they weren’t about to leave just like that. Every single person in the room was a heavyweight capable of shaking the political landscape of the capital. Even their silence alone was enough to send chills down one’s spine. The servants attending to them kept their heads deeply bowed, not daring to even breathe too loudly. Fortunately, a knock at the door shattered the suffocating tension in the meeting hall. "President Luther," A deep, icy voice sounded from the doorway. "They’re all here." Sinclair lazily lifted his gaze, his thin lips parting slightly. "Come in." Before the words had fully left his mouth, the door swung open from the outside. Everyone looked up. Sandra strode into the council chamber in a bathroom rope, ignoring everyone as she rushed straight to grandpa Porter. "Grandfather—" Her eyes were bloodshot, tears streaked down her flushed cheeks, and her hair was disheveled. She looked utterly disheveled, a far cry from the poised and haughty young lady she usually presented herself as. Taylor’s expression remained as composed and gentle as ever, but his eyes were icy cold. This fool nearly dragged Melissa into her mess. Whatever fate awaited her, she had brought it upon herself. Grandpa Luther took a sip of tea before setting his cup down, his sharp gaze fixed on Sandra. "Sandra," he said firmly, "tell your grandfather the truth. What exactly happened?" Grandpa Porter’s temples throbbed as he took in his granddaughter’s wretched state, fury rising like a tidal wave in his chest. "Don’t worry," he declared, "your grandfather will stand up for you!" So, without even knowing the facts, he was already treating her as the victim? A faint, mocking smile tugged at the corner of Calvin’s lips. Just then, Jonathan and the other two entered the room.