Chapter 106: I don’t have a brother

Chapter 106: I don’t have a brother "Fine." After a prolonged silence that stretched for dozens of seconds, grandpa Porter finally gave a slow nod. His deep-set eyes, fixed firmly on Tyler, burned with unconcealed fury and disdain. "If this truly was a misunderstanding, then the matter of responsibility would indeed need consideration," he said, his voice measured yet icy. "But all that can wait. The immediate priority is to uncover the truth behind this incident—what really happened." His agreement was clearly rooted in absolute certainty that the facts would remain unchanged. After all, Sandra’s humiliation was an undeniable reality. Sandra’s slightly reddened eyes glared at Tyler with undisguised revulsion, as though he were some filthy, repulsive piece of trash. The deliberate use of a recording and a USB drive to lure her into the lounge, followed by the chain of events that unfolded afterward—it all painted a crystal-clear picture. This had been a meticulously plotted scheme against her from the very beginning. There was no room for any so-called "misunderstanding"! And certainly no basis for Grandpa Luther’s absurd talk of responsibility. All she wanted was to make this man suffer a thousand cuts, to wish he were dead rather than alive. Just wait. One day, I’ll make you regret this!! Tyler noticed the icy glares from the Porter family’s grandfather and granddaughter, but his expression remained unreadable. Yet inside his coat pocket, his hand was clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. "Tyler." Grandpa Luther turned his head slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto Tyler. "Do you have anything to say about this?" Tyler knew. It was time for his counterattack—the most critical moment. "Miss Sandra," he said, his voice heavy with feigned sorrow as he looked at Sandra, as if deeply wounded. "It was you who approached me first at the banquet. You sought out my private room, pushed the door open yourself, and insisted I keep you company. You even started to undress—" He paused briefly, narrowing his eyes before continuing. "Of course, as a man, I can’t claim I’m blameless in this situation. That’s why I didn’t speak up at first." Tyler furrowed his brows, his voice dropping to a low, ominous tone. "What I can’t understand is why Miss Porter would suddenly start twisting the truth after waking up, throwing all the blame on me?" His expression and tone were utterly sincere, as though he were genuinely seeking an answer. "Sinclair," Calvin smirked, his casual demeanor laced with a hint of admiration. "Your so-called little brother here is quite an actor. He should really consider a career in entertainment. Any interest in recommending him to our Calvin Group’s talent agency?" "True enough," Taylor nodded silently. Had he not known the truth, even he might have wavered slightly at Tyler’s convincing performance. "I don’t have a brother," Sinclair shot Calvin a frosty glare. "Keep spouting nonsense, and I’ll have someone escort you out right now." "Calvin," Taylor shifted slightly away from him, chuckling. "You never learn, do you?" Every gesture and movement conveyed the same message loud and clear: "None of my business." With that settled, he resumed sipping tea and enjoying the show. Taylor’s words suddenly triggered a memory from over a decade ago in Calvin’s mind. Back then, he had made the mistake of referring to Tyler as "little brother" in front of Sinclair—an offhand remark that earned him lasting resentment. For two solid weeks afterward, his legs bore the consequences, leaving him hobbling around in discomfort. "Alright, alright," Calvin conceded with a wry twist of his lips, opting for a tactical retreat. "Slip of the tongue, buddy." Raising his teacup, he moved closer to Sinclair. "Let me make it up to you—tea instead of wine as my apology." Sinclair finally averted his gaze. Meanwhile, in a nearby room... "Madam," Ramsey entered with a respectful nod. "Everything has been taken care of as you instructed." "Good." Camilla gazed at the surveillance footage before her, her crimson lips curling into a frosty smile. Sandra would soon learn what it meant to be hoisted by her own petard. And this—this was only the beginning. Margaret listened to Tyler’s words, her lowered eyes flickering with a trace of smugness. Tyler’s account was the complete opposite of Sandra’s version of events, leaving even the nearby servants wide-eyed in shock. Jonathan’s frown deepened. For a moment, he couldn’t tell whose words held the truth. Grandpa Luther observed the two with a heavy gaze, clearly weighing the situation in his mind. Sandra, the cherished heiress of the Porter family, had always basked in endless adoration. More often than not, even when she was in the wrong, no one dared to contradict her. Let alone someone like Tyler, who had the audacity to twist the truth and accuse her to her face. "Tyler Luther!" Trembling with rage, her shrill, hysterical voice cut through the air like shattered glass. "You lowborn trash, how dare you spout such nonsense in front of everyone?!" Lowborn trash? Grandpa Porter’s brows knitted tightly. The words had already been spoken—there was no taking them back now. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, expressions flickering across the faces of those present. "Sandra!" Jonathan’s face darkened to an extreme, his usually refined features now twisted with fury. "That was completely uncalled for!" "Sandra, I truly don’t believe I’ve ever wronged you," Margaret, who had kept her head bowed like a mere shadow since entering the hall, finally looked up at Sandra, her face pale and her eyes quickly welling with tears. "Why... why would you say such things about me and Tyler?" "Did I say anything untrue?" The anger festering in Sandra’s heart had completely overridden her reason, and she glared at Margaret with undisguised scorn. "Playing the mistress to a married man—if that isn’t lowborn, then what is?" She sneered. "Save the damsel-in-distress act. I’m not Uncle Luther—your tricks won’t work on me." Sinclair didn’t lift his gaze, but the corner of his lips curled into a cold, mocking smile. Taylor and Calvin were also taken aback. "Sandra, enough!" Grandpa Porter intervened at just the right moment, his gaze shifting between Jonathan and Margaret. "The child is beside herself with anger and isn’t thinking straight. As elders, you shouldn’t take her words to heart." With that, Jonathan and Margaret had no choice but to swallow their fury, though it clearly choked them. The atmosphere in the meeting hall plunged into an icy silence once more. In a nearby room, Camilla watched the surveillance feed, her beautiful eyes glinting with amusement as she observed Jonathan and Margaret’s barely contained rage—forced into restraint by Grandpa Porter’s words. Sandra’s performance had far exceeded her expectations. "Grandfather," Tyler broke the suffocating silence, his voice cutting through the tension as he addressed Grandpa Luther. "Everything I’ve said is the truth. If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to investigate." His expression darkened as he shot a venomous glance at Sandra. "Grandpa," Margaret dabbed at her teary eyes and spoke softly, her voice trembling with feigned vulnerability. "I can’t speak for other matters, but at the banquet, it was definitely Sandra who initiated the conversation with Tyler, As she spoke, she cast a sidelong glance at Jonathan. "At the time, both Sandra and I were quite surprised." Grandpa Luther’s sharp gaze turned toward Jonathan. "That’s right," Jonathan nodded grimly, his face dark. "Sandra was indeed the one who approached him first, and she even had a long private chat with Tyler." His voice was tense. "With so many people in the banquet hall, plenty must have witnessed it. They can all testify." Sandra was so furious she felt her head might explode. Calvin raised an eyebrow. This drama was getting more and more intriguing.