Chapter 114: The third condition is the most difficult

Chapter 114: The third condition is the most difficult "Apologies, Grandpa Porter." Camilla’s crescent-moon eyes curved with amusement, though her saccharine voice carried an ironclad resolve. "I only want Porter Corporation’s shares." That little bitch was demanding the moon! Sandra clenched her jaw, her body trembling violently—whether from rage or pain was unclear. "Oh?" Noticing Sandra’s reaction, Camilla cast a languid, sidelong glance her way, her captivating eyes glinting with icy amusement. "Does Miss Sandra have something to say?" "N-No," Sandra’s pupils contracted sharply at the frost in Camilla’s gaze. "Then let’s proceed," Camilla’s crimson lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. "Don’t stop until I say so." Sandra clenched her teeth and raised her hand again, striking her own face with a sharp slap. "I’m sorry, I was wrong." "I’m sorry, I was wrong." ... Watching Sandra’s humiliating display, Tyler’s eyes darkened with even deeper disgust. Grandpa Porter glanced at Grandpa Luther, who remained silent, sipping his tea with downcast eyes. His jaw tightened. "Five percent of Porter Corporation’s shares are worth billions in market value," he said after a long pause, forcing his anger down as he spoke slowly. "If you’d prefer to convert them directly into cash, I can add an extra fifty million on top." Grandpa Porter narrowed his eyes slightly. "The money can be transferred immediately. You could take it and invest in any blue-chip stock you fancy. What do you say?" Billions were no small sum, but to the Porter family, it was nothing. Besides, money could always be earned back. But once those shares fell into Camilla’s hands, they might as well belong to the Luther Family—and getting them back would be next to impossible. Another fifty million?! Sandra pressed her lips together, feeling a sharp pang of financial pain. But she knew all too well that speaking up now would only make things worse. Margaret and Tyler were equally distressed. With Sandra’s engagement practically set in stone, they had already begun to regard the Porter family’s wealth as their own. "I won’t repeat myself a third time," Camilla said, lifting her gaze to meet grandpa Porter’s. Though her smile remained, her eyes had turned noticeably colder. "If you’re unwilling to trade shares for your granddaughter’s life, so be it. I’ve never been one to force people into difficult choices." Billions were indeed a staggering sum. But she knew the difference between a single feast and a lifetime of abundance. Besides— A shadow of frost settled in Camilla’s eyes. Her real motive for wanting the Porter family’s shares had never been about money. "Never been one to force people into difficult choices? Grandpa Porter’s temple twitched involuntarily at her words. What a fine example of not forcing others into difficult situations! "It’s getting late, and I don’t want to waste everyone’s time here," Camilla said before grandpa Porter could respond. She set down her cup and turned her gaze to Ramsey, her beautiful eyes lifting slightly as she added, "Handle Miss Sandra according to the Luther Family’s rules." A pause, then she corrected herself with deliberate calm. "Actually, take her outside to deal with it. No need to frighten the elderly present." Hearing this, Calvin and Taylor exchanged barely concealed smirks. "Yes, Madam!" Ramsey nodded and signaled with a wave of his hand. Two mercenaries immediately stepped forward, moving toward Sandra. "You—" grandpa Porter’s eyes bulged in disbelief, his face turning ashen. He hadn’t expected Camilla to be so unyielding—no room for negotiation, no hesitation. His breath hitched, his entire body rigid with shock. "No!!" Sandra stared at the approaching mercenaries, letting out a terrified scream. "Grandfather, just give it to her! I don’t want to die!!" Her eyes, brimming with despair and desperation, locked onto grandpa Porter. "Grandfather—" Clearly, in the face of death, nothing else mattered anymore. Tyler’s face darkened like a storm cloud, but fear of Sinclair and Camilla kept him from uttering a word. Margaret, who had been feigning composure, could no longer maintain her act. She couldn’t help but speak up. "Camilla, grandpa Porter is discussing this with you, isn’t he? He hasn’t refused yet." Camilla narrowed her beautiful eyes, her lips curling into a faint, mocking smile as she turned to Margaret. Sinclair also lifted his gaze, his expression icy as it swept over her. Under their piercing stares, Margaret’s heart pounded violently. She immediately lowered her head and fell silent. Just then— "The share transfer agreement..." Grandpa Porter’s face flushed with humiliation, his fists trembling slightly on his knees, knuckles turning white. "...I’ll have someone deliver it tomorrow." Rather than anger, what filled his heart was an overwhelming sense of helplessness. "Very well." Camilla’s expression remained composed, as if she had anticipated Grandpa Porter’s decision all along. "Then I’ll trouble you, grandpa Porter." At her signal, the two mercenaries released Sandra. "Ah—!" Sandra collapsed back onto the ground. Drenched in cold sweat from both the lingering terror of her near-death experience and the searing pain coursing through her body, she lay utterly immobilized. "The third condition—I accept that as well." Grandpa Porter didn’t spare a glance at Sandra. Leaning back in his chair, his face darkened like stagnant water. "Just say it." By now, he had realized—Camilla had no intention of giving him or the Porter family any room for negotiation. Yet to save Sandra, he had no choice but to submit. "Since grandpa Porter, is so perceptive, I’ll cut to the chase." A faint, inscrutable smile flickered in Camilla’s obsidian-dark eyes. "The third condition is even simpler," Her crimson lips parted slightly as she spoke with deliberate calm. "Within America, Miss Sandra is not to appear at any event I attend." Simple? A faint smirk tugged at the corners of Calvin’s peach-blossom eyes. This woman clearly had a rather... unique understanding of the word "simple." Apart from Sinclair, who was quietly brewing tea for Camilla with practiced ease, the others exchanged uneasy glances. Sandra felt the blood rush to her head, her vision swimming with fury. America might be vast, but the upper echelons of society operated within an exclusive circle. The Luther and Porter families both belonged to the elite, frequenting the same high-profile gatherings. To avoid Camilla entirely, she’d either have to track her every move in advance—an impossible feat—or withdraw from the social scene altogether. The latter would mean cutting herself off from the very networks that sustained her and the Porter family’s influence. How long before the world forgot Sandra existed? That cunning little viper—Camilla had played her hand brilliantly! Grandpa Porter pressed his lips tightly together, his brows furrowed under an impenetrable shadow of gloom. The third condition sounded the simplest, yet in reality, it was the hardest to fulfill—and the most humiliating blow to the Porter family’s pride. But at this point, he had no choice but to agree. "...Understood," grandpa Porter finally spoke, his voice hoarse and strained, as though each word had been forcibly dragged from the depths of his throat. "The Porter family will honor our promise to you." "Now, may I take Sandra away?" In this battle of wits, the Porter family had been the losers from start to finish. "Of course," Camilla replied smoothly, nodding with a gracious smile. "Be my guest." At once, the Porter family’s servants stepped forward, carefully helping Sandra to her feet. "Ah—!!" The movement inevitably aggravated her internal injuries, wrenching another agonized scream from her lips. Then everything went black as she completely lost consciousness. "Sandra," Grandpa Luther spoke in a low, grave voice. "Arrange for a doctor to accompany the Porter family." "No need," Grandpa Porter declined firmly. "Whether this wretched girl makes it home alive is up to fate now." His gaze, dark and inscrutable, lingered on Grandpa Luther. "Take care, grandpa Luther" Grandpa Luther gave a slow nod, his eyes equally unfathomable. "You too." Both elders understood all too well. After what had happened, the bond between the Luther and Porter families could never be the same again. And neither could theirs. Without another word, grandpa Porter turned and cast a final glance at Sinclair and Camilla. Then, leaning heavily on his servant for support, he walked away with slow, labored steps. The once-vigorous figure now appeared frail and diminished, like the last rays of a setting sun—a sight that stirred quiet melancholy. Such is the unpredictability of life.