Chapter 165: Find a scapegoat

Words : 1340 Updated : Oct 4th, 2025

Chapter 165: Find a scapegoat Outside the door. "Boss" The servant standing guard spotted Tyler and deliberately raised his voice. "Let me push your wheelchair." "What are you all doing here?" Tyler’s voice cut through the air, sharp with impatience. "Where’s Mother?" "Madam is in the living room with Steward Norris," the servant answered truthfully. "Shall I take you there?" "Hmph." Tyler responded with a dismissive grunt, his irritation barely concealed. No matter how you looked at it, Norris was just a servant who’d come from the Luther Family’s old estate. mother you shouldn’t be discussing everything with him as if he were some confidant. By the time Tyler reached the living room, Margaret was supposedly sitting on the sofa, her expression betraying nothing. Meanwhile, Norris stood with his head bowed to one side. The scattered throw pillows on the floor and the spilled tea on the table were clear evidence of Margaret’s earlier outburst. No wonder she had sent everyone away. A flicker of understanding passed through Tyler’s eyes as he turned to Norris and spoke coldly. "Leave us. I need to talk to my mother." "Yes, Boss." Norris looked at Tyler, his gaze brimming with warmth and affection—as if he were looking at his own child. But Tyler didn’t notice. Or perhaps, he never had. Once Norris had left, Tyler frowned at Margaret. "Mom, did you send someone to tail that woman I mean Ms. Tamara ?" Margaret caught the displeasure in his tone, and her expression darkened instantly. "What? Do I need your permission now to do anything?" Her voice was sharp with anger. "Besides, this is between me and your father. It’s none of your business." Noticing Margaret’s increasingly irritable and volatile temper, a flicker of impatience flashed through Tyler’s eyes. "Mom, that’s not what I meant." He picked up the cup on the table, filled it with tea, and downed it in one gulp before continuing in a low, steady voice. "The day after tomorrow is my engagement with Sandra—an important occasion. Whatever issues you have you should wait until after that. If you provoke Dad now and he causes a scene during the engagement, it’ll be embarrassing for everyone." After all, the only support they had in the Luther Family was... "He wouldn’t dare!" Margaret spat out the words, but uncertainty gnawed at her. She used to be sure about Jonathan’s limits, but now she wasn’t. These past few days, it was as if he had become a completely different person. "Whether he dares or not, you should know better than anyone," Tyler said coldly, his piercing gaze fixed on her. "I heard you two have been arguing nonstop lately. Last night, Dad even stormed out and slammed the door." Not only had Jonathan left, but he’d also called *that woman* out for drinks. Though nothing had happened in the end, the mere thought was enough to make Margaret seethe. Her face darkened, fury rising—just as she was about to explode. Tyler’s voice rang out once more. "Mom, I’m a man, and men understand men best," he said with earnest sincerity. "The harder you push, the more he’ll want to run—the more he’ll idealize that woman." He paused briefly before continuing, his tone measured. "What you should do now is nothing. Just treat Dad the same as always. Let guilt eat at him until he comes back on his own." Margaret frowned, lost in thought. "As for the surveillance, you could easily pin it on someone else," Tyler added, lowering his voice suggestively. "Norris, for instance." After all, it wouldn’t be far-fetched for a butler to do such a thing to curry favor with the lady of the house. "No!" Before he could finish, Margaret cut in sharply, her voice tense with urgency. "Why not?" Tyler furrowed his brows, eyeing her with confusion. "He’s just a butler. Why are you so worked up about it?" "It’s not exciting," Margaret said, her slender nails digging into her palms as she used the pain to steady herself. "It’s just that Norris has handled many things for me over the years. If we make him the scapegoat out of nowhere, he might get desperate and drag other matters into the light." She met Tyler’s gaze, forcing a composed smile. "As for your father, if he asks, I have a way to explain it." "Explain" was just a euphemism—she would simply deny everything. After all, those people had already vanished, and they weren’t in Jonathan’s hands. She could spin the story however she pleased. Seeing that Margaret had already thought everything through, Tyler gave a slow nod. Then, shifting the topic, he brought up another matter that concerned him. "Mom, how are things going with Grandfather?" At this, a faint smile finally appeared on Margaret’s face. "It’s done," she said, her lips curling slightly, though her eyes burned with malice and resentment. "That old fool won’t last long after your engagement." Tyler nodded, then voiced the deepest doubt in his heart. "But Camilla’s medical skills are extraordinary. What if she sees through it?" "Don’t worry," Margaret replied with unwavering certainty, her voice measured. "This thing is quite special—it won’t be detected until the very last moment." She paused, then added coolly, "And by then, even if they do find out, it’ll be too late to do anything about it." "That’s good then." Not long after Tyler left, Jonathan stormed back home, his face dark with fury. "Jonathan," Margaret called out, forcing down the anger simmering inside her as she rose from the couch. She managed to summon a faint semblance of her usual gentle smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "You’re home early today. What’s the occasion?" Jonathan didn’t answer. Instead, he strode toward her and, without warning, swung his arm back and struck her hard across the face. *SMACK!* The sharp sound of the slap echoed through the room as Margaret was sent sprawling to the floor. A stinging pain flared across her cheek, and her ears rang violently, the world spinning as she struggled to regain her bearings. When she finally recovered, she clutched her face, staring up at the man she had lived with for over twenty years in utter disbelief. "Jonathan, you hit me?!" Her heart burned with a mix of humiliation and fury, as if scorched by flames. "Hitting you is the least of what you deserve," Jonathan spat through gritted teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, his expression dark and terrifying. "Don’t pretend you don’t know what you’ve done behind my back." Margaret opened her mouth to retort but suddenly paled, realizing it was dawning. Had he found out she sent someone to tail Tamara? Could it be that he was the one who intercepted her people?! "All I did was share a couple of drinks with Tamara to catch up, and you actually sent someone to kill her?" Jonathan’s eyes bore into her, his rage intensifying as he jabbed a finger in her direction. "Margaret, Margaret... After all these years, I’ve clearly underestimated you!" "Jonathan, what are you talking about?" Margaret froze, then slowly rose from the floor, one hand pressed to her stinging cheek as she glared at him. "I sent someone to kill Tamara?" "You just admitted it yourself!" Jonathan sneered coldly. "Who are you putting on this act for now?" His expression was as dark as his tone. "If Tamara hadn’t been lucky, she might have died on the way here." Margaret trembled with rage. "Jonathan!!" Their argument erupted once more, escalating rapidly. Naturally, the news quickly reached Sinclair and Camilla’s ears. A glint of satisfaction flashed in Camilla’s eyes. Every bit of debt Margaret owed to Sinclair, she would collect—piece by piece. The next day at noon. "Camilla, what did you say?" Tiffany’s face nearly pressed against the screen in excitement. "Senior Mega is back?" Camilla couldn’t help but laugh. "He’s back, so what? Why are you so worked up?" "Camilla," Tiffany lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Are you really clueless, or are you just pretending?"

Chapter 165: Find a scapegoat

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