Chapter 235: The poison in Sinclair body has started affecting him

Words : 1224 Updated : Oct 10th, 2025

Chapter 235: The poison in Sinclair body has started affecting him Meanwhile. "President Luther!" "Boss Luther!" After over twenty mercenaries had been knocked down, the sedative was finally successfully administered. Yet even so, the remaining mercenaries on the scene didn’t dare let their guard down. When Boss Luther had an episode, his physical functions reached an extreme state—there was no telling how long it would take for the sedative to take effect. Sure enough. Sinclair didn’t collapse immediately. His veins bulging, he yanked the sedative syringe from his neck. His bloodshot eyes locked onto the mercenary who had injected him, his gaze as savage as a beast ready to tear its prey apart. "Look out!!" Gerald sensed the danger instantly and shouted a warning. But it was too late. Sinclair’s bloodstained fist lashed out with devastating force. The mercenary’s pupils contracted in shock as he raised his arms to block. *CRACK—* The sickening crunch of bones echoed through the air as their forces collided. The man staggered backward from the impact. Sinclair had no intention of letting him off so easily. He advanced again, his eyes darkening with a brutality that sent chills down the spine. Fortunately, the other mercenaries swiftly intervened, diverting Sinclair’s attention. What followed was a bloodbath far more gruesome than anything Hollywood could conjure. Gerald pressed his lips into a thin line, his gaze icy with concern. The Boss’s episode this time was worse than ever before. If this continued, even their best men wouldn’t be able to hold him back. Thankfully, after twenty agonizing minutes, the sedative finally took effect. Sinclair’s movements slowed, then— His tall frame crumpled like a felled tree. "Boss!" The lead mercenary reacted in a flash, catching Sinclair before he hit the ground. Only then did Gerald exhale in relief, immediately ordering the team to carry Sinclair back to his room. "I’ll stay here with President Luther. You all go check on the casualties and handle the aftermath." "Yes, sir!" No one knew. At this moment, Sinclair, still unconscious, was trapped in a chaotic nightmare—both eerily familiar and unsettlingly foreign. Meanwhile. At the Luther Family estate. "What did you just say?" Margaret’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at Camilla, disbelief written all over her face. "You were the one who sent someone to tamper with Jonathan’s paternity test?!" Her fists clenched tightly, her already swollen face now turning pale. "Why would you do this?!" Before this moment, Margaret had been convinced it was that wretched Tamara who had orchestrated the scheme. "Why?" Camilla stepped closer, looking down at Margaret with a cold, imperious gaze. The corners of her crimson lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. "Probably because I was bored and just wanted to kill some time." Ramsey’s lips twitched as he suppressed a smirk. Kill time? Destroying everything she held dear—just to kill time?! Margaret was so furious she could practically taste blood, her eyes darkening with venomous hatred. "Camilla, you little bitch, I’ll—*smack!*" A sudden slap cut off her words before they could fully escape her lips. "You dare hit me?" Margaret clutched her stinging cheek, glaring at Camilla with barely contained rage. "Don’t forget, until my divorce with Jonathan is finalized, I’m still your Sinclair’s stepmother! Striking an elder is an unforgivable act of disrespect!" Even now, she still had the audacity to pull rank as an elder? How had such an idiot managed to deceive the master for so many years? Ramsey’s gaze hardened with a mix of disbelief and grim realization. He knew he shouldn’t think this way, but he couldn’t help it— Grandpa’s exceptional genes had clearly skipped a generation when it came to her. "That wasn’t a slap—it was a friendly reminder," Camilla said, her smiling eyes laced with bone-chilling coldness. "After all, the last person who dared insult me turned into an unrecognizable charred corpse just hours ago, left to rot without a burial." Her voice remained sweet, but her words sent a paralyzing dread through Margaret’s veins. "Oh, and you actually saw that person at today’s engagement banquet. She almost became family with you." Only one person fit that description—someone who had insulted Camilla and nearly married into Luther’s family. "You... you killed Sandra?!" Margaret’s pupils contracted violently, her fury dissolving into sheer terror as she stared at Camilla. "She was the Porter family’s legitimate heiress! How could you possibly—" "It doesn’t matter who they are," Camilla interrupted, leaning slightly forward in her chair, her crimson lips parting with icy precision. "If they dare harm me or those I care about, I won’t let them walk away unscathed." Her stunning eyes darkened, her delicate face devoid of any warmth. "Sandra wasn’t the first, and she certainly won’t be the last." The voice was soft as a whisper, the tone utterly indifferent. Yet the words spoken seemed to freeze the very air in the room, pressing down like an invisible weight. Margaret felt a sudden, suffocating terror—the same kind she experienced in front of Sinclair. A cold sweat drenched her back in an instant. For the first time, she realized with absolute clarity that the woman before her was cut from the same cloth as Sinclair. Ruthless. Cold-blooded. "It’s getting late. Let’s get down to business." Camilla observed the fear in Margaret’s eyes with detached amusement, idly toying with the teacup on the table. Her voice was light, almost lazy. "Tell me—who is Tyler’s real father?" Margaret clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, the sharp pain a desperate attempt to steady her trembling nerves. "Bring Jonathan here. I’ll only discuss Tyler’s matters with him directly." "Jonathan." Camilla chuckled softly, but her gaze remained icy. "Surely you still believe you’re in any position to negotiate with me—or with the Luther Family?" Margaret bit her lip, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. She wanted to speak, but no words came. "Since you’re not willing to talk properly, I see no reason to ask nicely either." Camilla leaned back in her chair, her crimson lips parting slightly. "Ramsey, bring him in." "Yes, Madam." Ramsey stepped outside and issued a low command. "Bring him in!" Margaret’s expression faltered, her gaze darting nervously toward the door. Bound at the limbs and gagged, Tyler was dragged in by two mercenaries and secured against the wall. "Mmph—!" At the sight of Camilla, his pupils trembled faintly—rage flickering in his eyes, but beneath it, a trace of fear. Even someone as slow to realize as him could piece it together now. The engagement banquet, the revelations about his background—all of it had been orchestrated by the woman before him. "Tyler..." Margaret’s lips quivered as she stared at him, her face etched with worry. "Tyler, are you alright? What did they do to you?" Tyler glared at Margaret, his complex gaze simmering with barely concealed resentment. Margaret took a step forward, intent on approaching him. Two burly mercenaries immediately blocked her path, their faces stony and unyielding. "You—" Fury twisted Margaret’s features, but she couldn’t budge the towering men an inch. "My patience is wearing thin," Camilla slammed her cup onto the table with a heavy thud, the sound cutting through the tension. "You can save your touching mother-son reunion for later," Her clear, piercing eyes locked onto Margaret like daggers. "Last chance—who is that man?"

Chapter 235: The poison in Sinclair body has started affecting him

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