Chapter 154: Do you really think you and Sandra can bring Sinclair and his wife down??

Words : 1302 Updated : Oct 2nd, 2025

Chapter 154: Do you really think you and Sandra can bring Sinclair and his wife down?? Night fell. A sleek black Rolls-Royce Ghost came to a smooth stop in front of the Luther Family Mansion Ramsey stepped out to open the door. Sinclair emerged from the back seat, his strikingly handsome face betraying no emotion, as cool and unreadable as ever. Meanwhile, inside the living room— The moment Camilla heard the purr of the car engine, she sprang up, not even bothering to set down the iPad in her hands before rushing outside. "Sweetheart." Dressed in a white nightgown, her porcelain skin seemed even fairer against the fabric. Her chestnut-brown curls cascaded like a waterfall, framing delicate features that only grew more enchanting under the soft glow of the porch lights. Her smiling eyes, warm and bright, cut through the darkness like the first light of dawn. Camilla was breathtakingly beautiful. Sinclair gazed at her, his dark eyes brimming with such intensity that his love for her felt almost tangible. Under his unwavering stare, Camilla threw herself into his arms, wrapping hers tightly around his waist. "You’re back so late," she murmured, a playful pout in her voice. "Weren’t you supposed to have dinner with me?" Though her words carried a tone of reproach, there was an unmistakable coquettish lilt to her voice. And truly, that was the case. Camilla’s heart ached more than anything—aching for Sinclair, who had once again worked late into the night, skipping both rest and meals. "My fault," Sinclair murmured, bending down to press a kiss to Camilla’s flushed lips. His voice was rough, his gaze tender. "Well, if you know it’s your fault," Camilla said, her eyes crinkling with a smile as she took his slender hand and tugged him toward the dining room. "Then your punishment is to sit with me and finish every last bite of the food I saved for you!" "Deal," Sinclair replied, the corner of his mouth lifting as he let her lead him. The warmth of her palm seeped into his chest, melting away the lingering chill in his eyes until nothing remained. From behind, Ramsey watched the two walk away, his own eyes brimming with urgency. How on earth was he supposed to get a message to the madam—right under the boss’s nose? At the same time. In a suburban villa. Margaret, dressed in an elegant dark blue cheongsam with flawless makeup, frowned deeply as she glared at the servant before her. "Well?" she demanded sharply. The servant, sensing her displeasure, hesitated before answering cautiously. "Sir... still isn’t answering his phone." "Keep calling," Margaret pressed her lips into a thin line, her expression darkening. "Call until he picks up." "But... Sir might get angry..." The servant wavered. After all, they were paid by the Luther Family, and Jonathan was their true employer. "What? Even a lowly servant dares to talk back to me now?" Margaret’s face twisted with fury as she snatched the ashtray from the table and hurled it violently. **Crash!** The ashtray struck the servant’s temple before crashing to the floor, shattering into pieces. Blood gushed from the wound, instantly draining the color from the man’s face. His eyes widened in panic as he stammered, "Madam... I didn’t mean it like that. I was just worried about Mr. Jonathan—" Margaret cut him off, her dark eyes burning with fury. "Get out!" she snapped, her voice sharp as a blade. The servant flinched at the venom in her glare, as if one more word from him would make her tear him apart. "Y-yes, right away," he stammered, nodding frantically before scrambling out of the room in a clumsy rush. Alone now, Margaret sank back onto the sofa, her expression icy and unreadable. Today was her birthday. In years past, no matter how busy he was, Jonathan had always made time for her. Even when that woman had spiraled into near madness, he had never missed a single celebration. But today? Not only had he failed to come home, he wasn’t even answering his phone. A woman’s intuition told her something was wrong—something Jonathan didn’t want her to know. Margaret’s eyes narrowed slightly. Like, perhaps, being with another woman. No!! Margaret clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug deep into her palms. For years, she had played the role of the gentle, devoted wife—the very image Jonathan adored. Every gesture, every expression was meticulously crafted, all to keep his heart firmly in her grasp. And it had worked—brilliantly. She would never allow another woman to steal away the man she had schemed so hard to claim. Not even the slightest possibility would she tolerate!! Her jaw tensed, her face twisting into an even uglier scowl. "Find out where Jonathan is right now," she snapped into her phone, punching in a familiar number with stiff fingers. Her voice was brittle with tension. "Who he’s with. What he’s doing." "Now. Immediately!!" "Margaret, what’s gotten into—" The man on the other end sounded startled. "Understood." Margaret hung up the phone and leaned back heavily against the sofa. Her icy eyes darkened further, swirling with a venomous intensity, as if she had just made a resolute decision. At that moment, Tyler wheeled himself in from outside. "Mom, didn’t you say you and Dad were having a romantic evening tonight? Why did you suddenly call me over?" As he spoke, his gaze landed on the untouched dishes still sitting on the dining table nearby. His brows furrowed. "Dad... why isn’t he back yet?!" In all these years, this had never happened before. Tyler frowned. "I’ll call him right now." "No need." Margaret turned to him, her expression shadowed and cold. "He’s not answering anyone’s calls. I’ve already sent people to look for him. Once they find him, I’ll go pick him up myself." Tyler knew his mother had her ways. After all, she wouldn’t have been able to dethrone that other woman and take this position otherwise. Upon hearing this, he immediately nodded and put down his phone. Margaret spoke again, her tone noticeably colder and more severe than before. "Your grandpa asked you to come for another matter." Tyler gave a slight nod, waiting for her to continue. "The old estate," Margaret said slowly, her gaze fixed on her son. "It’s time to make our move." Her voice was unusually low, clearly hinting at something far more complex beneath the surface. "So soon?!" Tyler’s eyes widened in shock as he stared at her. "I thought we agreed to wait until I secured the Porter family before taking action?" "With those two little bastards, Sinclair and Camilla, still in the picture, your grandpa can’t shake the feeling that something might go wrong," Margaret replied, her words laced with barely suppressed fury. "It’s safer to strike early—cover all our bases at once." "But Mother, the fallout from the birthday banquet hasn’t even settled yet," Tyler’s brows furrowed tightly, his expression clearly disapproving. "Taking action now seems too risky." "If I’d been as timid as you back then, how could I have gained everything I have today?" Margaret frowned, her well-maintained face showing a hint of frustration. "We’ve nurtured that pawn in the old mansion for so many years—isn’t this exactly the moment we’ve been waiting for?" Without waiting for Tyler’s reply, she fixed her sharp gaze on him and pressed on. "Once the plan succeeds, the Luther Family will be thrown into chaos, inside and out. Sinclair will be overwhelmed, and that’s your best opportunity." Tyler remained silent, clearly weighing her words. His features, somewhat resembling Margaret’s, carried not just worry but also a faint glimmer of anticipation. "Or what?" Margaret’s tone turned icy, laced with unmistakable mockery. "Do you really think you and Sandra alone can take on Sinclair and Camilla?!"

Chapter 154: Do you really think you and Sandra can bring Sinclair and his wife down??

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