Chapter 112: Three conditions

Chapter 112: Three conditions Grandpa Luther had married Camilla into the Luther Family to treat and protect Sinclair’s life, not to let her suffer grievances. "Yes, Grandfather," Camilla nodded, warmth flooding her heart. Grandpa Luther’s move was tantamount to placing grandpa Porter and the entire Porter family’s dignity right at her feet. Whether to trample on it, how to trample on it, and how hard— The choice was entirely hers. Sinclair watched the faint curve of Camilla’s lips, his long fingers pausing mid-air as they tapped the table. A fleeting emotion flashed through his dark eyes. Had he known she’d be this pleased, he should have been the one to say those words. Camilla’s stance represented the Luther Family’s stance?! Jonathan pressed his thin lips together, his gaze fixed on Camilla with unmistakable displeasure. The old man was placing far too much importance on this woman! Beside him, Margaret kept her head lowered, concealing the storm of emotions twisting her expression. So bold now, yet where was this old man’s support when she and Tyler needed it? The favoritism couldn’t be more blatant! "Grandpa Porter," Grandfather Luther turned back to Grandpa Porter, his tone once again cool and detached. "You don’t have any objections, do you?" Though phrased as a question, it was clearly not open for debate. The last time grandpa Porter had been at someone else’s mercy was decades ago. The old man’s hands on his knees clenched and unclenched, his eyes shadowed with layers of gloom. "...Of course." Sandra’s face was a mix of resentment and terror, yet she couldn’t even move a muscle. "Good," Grandpa Luther nodded with a cold, grave expression before turning to Camilla. "Camilla, what do you say?" "Since grandpa Porter has spoken, as a junior, I naturally must show respect," Camilla replied with humble gentleness. "Three conditions," Her red lips curved slightly as she spoke with deliberate nonchalance. "Agree to these three terms, and I’m willing to let bygones be bygones—Miss Sandra walks free." Three conditions? Calvin and Taylor exchanged glances, their faces alight with open curiosity and amusement. Grandpa Porter’s aged, stormy eyes narrowed slowly as he fixed them on Camilla, his voice tight and rigid. "Let’s hear it." "First," Camilla looked down at Sandra, who lay beneath her feet, her sweet voice laced with an icy chill. "I want Sandra to kneel in front of everyone here, slap herself, and apologize to me." Make Sandra kneel and slap herself in front of all these people?! This wasn’t just a slap to Sandra’s face—it was a slap to grandpa Porter’s dignity as well. Calvin pressed his lips together, his amused eyes lifting slightly. This demand wasn’t particularly lethal, but the humiliation was off the charts. Grandpa Porter’s temple twitched, veins bulging on his forehead as he clenched his jaw in silence. Grandpa Luther and Sinclair, their strikingly similar eyes, both flickered with faint amusement. In your dreams!! Sandra gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with venomous hatred. She refused to believe this little bitch Camilla would actually dare to kill her in front of her grandfather! There was no way Grandfather would agree to this!! "What’s the matter?" When Camilla spoke again, her tone had noticeably chilled. "Miss Sandra, you can do things that betray others, but can’t bring yourself to say the words ’I’m sorry’?" She turned her gaze toward Ramsey, her voice dripping with indifference. "Since grandpa Porter refuses to agree, then there’s nothing left to discuss. Take her away and deal with her." *Deal with her?!* Margaret and Tyler were both stunned by Camilla’s decisiveness and ruthlessness. If Sandra really died, wouldn’t all their efforts have been in vain?! "Yes, Madam!" Ramsey nodded. Just as he was about to give the order, grandpa Porter’s voice, thick with suppressed fury, cut through the tension. "Wait." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to forcibly rein in his rage. "...I agree to the terms." Sandra’s pupils trembled. "Good," Camilla curled her lips into a faint smile, subtly removing the silver needle from Sandra’s lower back as she lifted her foot. "Camilla!!" Sandra instantly felt strength flood back into her body. With venomous hatred burning in her eyes, she scrambled up from the floor and lunged at Camilla like a woman possessed. "You think I’d ever kneel and apologize to a worthless bitch like you? In your dreams!!" "Sandra!!" Grandpa Porter’s face darkened with fury as he slammed his palm on the table and shot to his feet. "Someone restrain her, now!!" The Porter family servants snapped into action, rushing toward Sandra in a panic. Camilla remained standing in place, her lips curved in an amused smile, making no move to evade the attack. Sandra was free to try—but she wondered if the Porter family could afford the consequences. Ramsey and the team of mercenaries tensed, their expressions icy as they prepared to intervene. If their boss’s wife got hurt right under grandpa Porter and their boss’s watch, their careers would be over. But before they could take a single step— Sinclair pulled Camilla protectively into his arms and delivered a brutal kick straight to Sandra’s torso. *CRACK!* Sandra’s body was sent flying backward with a sickening crack of breaking bones, crashing heavily onto the ground. The excruciating pain made her feel as if all her internal organs had been violently rearranged. She gasped for breath, her face instantly drained of color and twisted in agony. "Sandra!!" Grandpa Porter staggered, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself. The force behind Sinclair’s kick was so brutal that Sandra likely had several ribs shattered. That damned bastard—how could he be so ruthless?! Margaret’s breathing grew ragged as she instinctively took a step back. Jonathan and Tyler also paled, their expressions darkening. Clearly, the scene before them dredged up memories of what had happened at the old estate. Sinclair’s obsidian eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Camilla, his coldly handsome features softening imperceptibly. "Did it scare you?" Scare her? Taylor arched an eyebrow, glancing first at Camilla—who hadn’t so much as flinched—then at Sandra, writhing in pain on the floor. If anyone should be scared, it was definitely the other woman. Indeed, love can make one blind. Calvin remained unfazed, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary. "I’m not that timid," Camilla murmured, her lips curving into a soft smile as she breathed in the familiar scent of agarwood lingering on the man. "Don’t worry." Though she wasn’t afraid, the feeling of being protected was undeniably comforting. "Good," Sinclair replied, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before pulling her back into his embrace. "Quick—" Grandpa Porter, finally regaining his bearings, turned to his servants with frantic urgency. "Go—go check on Sandra! Now!" "Stop right there." Sinclair’s voice cut through the air like a blade, his slender yet powerful fingers steadying the gun in his grip. With a single motion, he cocked the weapon, its barrel trained unwaveringly on the Porter family servants. His dark, piercing eyes radiated an icy menace that seemed to freeze the very air around them. "Who dares move?"