Chapter 108: Shut up your mouth, you peacock.

Chapter 108: Shut up your mouth, you peacock. The council chamber fell into dead silence once more. The assembled members wore varied expressions, but the atmosphere had grown even more frigid than before. Margaret observed the scene with mounting anxiety, her fingers clutching nervously at the hem of her dress. Had Tyler properly disposed of the incense as they’d planned? If any trace of it were discovered now, neither of them would escape unscathed. Her gaze flickered involuntarily toward Tyler, who met her worried look with a faint, reassuring glance. Everything unfolding in this room had been orchestrated by Camilla—he was certain there would be no slip-ups. Yet Tyler narrowed his eyes in quiet contemplation. But why would Camilla go to such lengths? If her goal was merely to deal with Sandra, she could have chosen countless other methods. Why opt for one that ultimately worked in his favor? It certainly couldn’t be out of kindness, deliberately giving him a helping hand in passing. Tyler shifted his gaze toward Sinclair. In any case, once this matter was over, he would have to destroy all evidence related to it and stay vigilant against both Sinclair and Camilla. Sinclair seemed to sense something, casting a casual glance in Tyler’s direction. That bone-chilling stare, as if piercing straight into his soul, sent a shiver down Tyler’s spine, leaving him frozen in dread. He immediately clenched his fists, feigning nonchalance as he averted his eyes, not daring to meet that gaze again. A faint, icy smile curled on Sinclair’s flawlessly handsome face. Meanwhile, in a room not far from the council hall... " The first act is nearing its end," Camilla murmured, her crimson lips parting slightly. "Soon, it’ll be my turn to take the stage." She set down her cup, her beautiful eyes veiled in a frosty haze. "But before that... I’ll need to make some preparations." Preparations? Ramsey furrowed his brows. Clearly, he had no idea what Camilla was suddenly referring to with this "preparation" she mentioned. "If there’s anything left to prepare, just give me the order and I’ll take care of it." "Perfect timing then," Camilla curled her lips, her captivating eyes glinting with mischief. "This is something I actually need you to handle—I can’t bring myself to do it." Can’t bring herself to do it? Ramsey caught the key point in her words, and understanding flashed in his eyes. "Who does Madam want me to deal with?" "The target," Camilla rose from the couch and met his gaze. "Is right in front of you." Someone who troubled Madam yet was right in front of him? Ramsey’s gaze shifted past Camilla to the wrinkled face on the surveillance screen. His eyes widened in shock. "Madam—" He looked at Camilla with an uncharacteristic expression of hesitation on his face. "The target you want me to deal with... it couldn’t be... Grandpa Porter, could it?" Before Camilla could respond, Ramsey spoke again, his face twisted in discomfort. "It’s not that I don’t want to follow your orders, but grandpa Porter is already in his seventies or eighties. One punch, and he might not even make it to the hospital in time. I... I just can’t bring myself to do it." Camilla: "..." "Ramsey," she said with a smile, cutting him off. "Have you ever considered a career change?" A career change? Was the madam planning to fire him?! Ramsey froze. He knew all too well. Given how much Mr. Luther doted on his wife, getting him dismissed would be as simple as her saying the word. "Actually," Ramsey immediately straightened his expression and turned his gaze back to the surveillance footage of grandpa Porter. "It’s not that I can’t bring myself to do it at all. Just go easy on me." "...You’ve got it all wrong," Camilla said, barely suppressing a laugh as she took in Ramsey’s expression. "Honestly, with an imagination like yours, it’s a waste for you to just be Sinclair’s assistant. He should invest in you as a screenwriter instead." Her beautiful eyes lifted slightly in amusement. "Besides, the target I want you to deal with isn’t grandpa Porter." Ramsey exhaled in relief. "Then who...?" Camilla extended a slender, pale finger—and pointed at herself. "Me." Ramsey’s pupils dilated, the breath he’d just relaxed tightening again in his chest. "In that case, you’d better just fire me." If he laid a hand on the boss’s wife, losing his job would be the least of his worries. Inside the council chamber. "Grandpa Luther, President Luther," Several mercenaries dispatched by Sinclair strode in with grim expressions. "We’ve retrieved the surveillance footage," one of them reported. Behind them, members of the Porter family filed into the room. Grandpa Porter cast a meaningful glance at the group. One of the men shot Sandra a dark look before lowering his head in silence. Understanding dawned on the old man’s face. His gaze turned icy as it settled on Sandra, fury simmering beneath the surface. Sandra trembled slightly, her fingers tightening around the glass in her hand. Just then, the door swung open once more. "Grandfather," Tyler’s voice shattered the silence of the council hall. "Seeing is believing, hearing is deceiving," His inscrutable, shadowed eyes fixed on Sandra as a bitter smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Let’s just project the surveillance footage directly. That way, everyone can see for themselves who’s lying—me or Miss Porter." The husky, low timbre of his voice carried an unmistakable note of weary disappointment. *Tsk tsk.* What a flawless performance as the victim. Calvin arched an eyebrow, his devilishly handsome face etched with amusement. If only the actors under Calvin Entertainment could deliver performances this convincingly, they’d have dominated the industry long ago. The footage had been carefully orchestrated by Tyler—every frame designed to trap her. For Sandra, it was nothing but a losing game. She shook her head, about to refuse— "Very well," Grandpa Luther glanced at Tyler, then subtly shifted his gaze to Sinclair’s indifferent expression before nodding slightly. "Then let’s all watch it together—fair and square." The mercenary gave a curt nod and immediately began operating the equipment. Sandra turned her head, her slightly reddened eyes burning into Tyler with undisguised hatred. Every fiber of her being screamed to tear off that hypocritical mask of his right this instant, the veins in her neck bulging with suppressed rage. If she’d known things would come to this, she would never have let that bastard step foot into this banquet alive!! Grandpa Porter pressed his lips into a thin line, his face dark as storm clouds. Seeing Sandra’s expression, a sinking realization crept over him—he might have just shot himself in the foot. But with events having escalated to this point, there was no turning back now. All eyes in the room converged on the screen. Even Taylor straightened in his seat. Though his gentle demeanor remained unchanged as always, a glimmer of interest flickered in those typically aloof eyes. He was curious to see exactly how this fool Sandra had been maneuvered step by step into this trap. The surveillance footage of Sandra played across the grand projection screen in the conference hall. There she was—initiating conversation with Tyler while holding a wine glass. Then approaching a waiter to inquire about Tyler’s private lounge. She took the initiative to push open the door to Tyler’s private lounge... From the surveillance footage alone, it was indeed Sandra who had actively approached him time and again. Everything aligned perfectly with Tyler’s earlier account. A glint of triumph flickered deep in Margaret’s eyes. Grandpa Luther cast a meaningful glance at Grandpa Porter before lowering his gaze to sip his tea, remaining silent. Grandpa Porter’s face darkened with fury as he turned his glare toward Sandra and slammed his palm hard against the table. "Explain yourself! What in the world is going on?!" "Grandfather..." Sandra’s voice trembled with choked-back sobs, her expression the very picture of pitiful grievance. "None of this is true—you have to believe me..." "Miss Sandra," Calvin interjected with a light chuckle, the corners of his lips curling in amusement. "With the evidence staring us in the face, there’s no need to put grandpa Porter in such an awkward position." His narrow, peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly, their depths unreadable. "Besides, you and Tyler are both unattached—what happens between consenting adults is hardly scandalous. Though, I’ll admit, the timing and setting could’ve been more... appropriate." He leaned back, his tone smooth as silk. "Fortunately, Grandpa Luther has always been lenient with the younger generation. A sincere apology to him should suffice—no need to escalate things to this extent." The implication was clear—it was all Sandra’s fault for making a scene to avoid being scolded by the elders. Sinclair didn’t even look up, the corners of his thin lips curling into a faint smirk. "Shut your mouth, Calvin," Sandra turned her head, her voice bordering on hysteria. "Don’t think everyone’s as shameless as you, you peacock!" Peacock? Taylor glanced sideways at Calvin’s devilishly handsome face, a flicker of agreement flashing in his eyes. The nickname was, admittedly, spot-on. Calvin caught Taylor’s silent approval and rolled his eyes at his friend. When he turned back to Sandra, his expression remained unchanged, but the mocking smile at his lips deepened. "Shameless as I may be, at least I don’t cause scenes at the elders’ birthday banquets." Sandra gritted her teeth. "You—" "Enough!" Grandpa Porter’s veins bulged at his temples as he cut her off, his face dark with fury. "This is no time for your childish antics!" Calvin family’s influence had been steadily growing, even threatening to overshadow the Porter family’s standing. Offending them was out of the question. Calvin had anticipated grandpa Porter’s reaction.. Unfazed, he leisurely lifted the teacup beside him. Childish antics? He was the one who started with those veiled insults! Sandra stared at her grandfather with wounded eyes, her vision blurring with unshed tears. "First," Grandpa Porter fixed her with a stern, questioning gaze, "explain yourself. What exactly were you trying to pull tonight?" He refused to believe his own granddaughter would stoop so low as to chase after some illegitimate son. Yet the surveillance footage laid bare before him left no room for doubt. Unless—unless Sandra had some hidden motive for her actions. Only then could this deadlock be broken.