Chapter 257: How come you both are still alive?

Words : 1353 Updated : Oct 11th, 2025

Chapter 257: How come you both are still alive? "What do you think you’re doing?" Samson glared at grandpa Porter with undisguised hatred, his teeth clenched so tightly they nearly ground to dust. "You ruined me. Now it’s my turn to drag you down with me." If it weren’t for this old bastard’s mix of coaxing and threats, he would never have dared to scheme against the main family—and he certainly wouldn’t have ended up in this wretched state. "Ruined you?" Grandpa Porter sat down across from Samson, his brow deeply furrowed. His eyes were pools of unfathomable darkness. "Where did you get that idea?" Before Samson could respond, a hoarse voice cut through the tension. "Grandpa Porter, you’re here." Grandpa Luther?! Grandpa Porter’s pupils contracted sharply as he whipped his head toward the staircase. There, descending with measured steps, was an elderly man dressed in traditional American attire, lightly supported by Uncle Carlos. Though his pace was unhurried, an aura of quiet authority radiated from him. Who else could it be but Grandpa Luther? What the hell is going on? Grandpa Porter’s face drained of color the instant he locked eyes with grandpa Luther. Click-clack. Click-clack. Dozens of armed mercenaries suddenly emerged along the second-floor railings. The chilling muzzles of their rifles were all trained on Grandpa Porter, Loric, and their men below. Loric and his crew paled, instinctively raising their own firearms in response—but it was already too late. Bang! Bang! A series of gunshots rang out. Bullets tore through their skulls with lethal precision, spraying blood in all directions. Before they could even process what was happening, Loric and his men collapsed to the ground, eyes wide and unseeing. Samson swallowed hard, his face a mask of terror. He couldn’t help but fear that the next bullet might come flying straight for his own head. Grandpa Luther and the others didn’t even spare a single glance in that direction. To them, what was unfolding before their eyes was nothing out of the ordinary. By now, everything had become painfully clear. Tonight, it wasn’t grandpa Luther who had fallen into the trap—it was himself. Grandpa Porter pressed his lips tightly together, his face paling before turning ashen. The imposing aura around him withered away. In contrast, Grandpa Luther remained composed, sitting across from Porter with his usual calm demeanor. "Uncle Carlos, brew us some tea," he said, pressing a button by his side. The mechanism in the center of the tea table clicked open, revealing a pristine chessboard. "Same as always," he remarked, then lifted his gaze to meet grandpa Porter’s. "Care for a game?" "Fine." Grandpa Porter’s lips twisted into a bitter, self-mocking smile. He didn’t refuse. Instead, he picked up a white piece and made the first move. Unfazed, Grandpa Luther took a black piece and followed suit. The atmosphere in the living room grew tense and solemn as two formidable elders engaged in a high-stakes game of chess. Grandpa Porter, usually cautious and methodical in his play, had suddenly adopted an aggressive, razor-sharp strategy. Each move was calculated, each step pressing forward with relentless precision. In contrast, Grandpa Luther remained as composed as ever, his style steady and defensive, never initiating an attack. As the game progressed, the black pieces soon found themselves at a disadvantage. A shadow flickered in grandpa Porter’s eyes as he picked up a white piece and placed it decisively on a critical spot. Then, lifting his gaze, he met Grandpa Luther’s eyes and spoke slowly. "Grandpa Luther, you’ve lost." "Grandpa Porter," Grandpa Luther replied without looking up, his tone layered with unspoken meaning. "I’ve told you before—life is like chess. Never rush for victory." With that, he set down the piece in his hand right beside grandpa Porter’s last move. "Never underestimate your opponent until the very end." In that instant, the tide of the game turned. Only then did Samson realize the truth—what had seemed like an overwhelming advantage for the white pieces had actually been a carefully laid trap by the black. The moment the net closed, the white pieces would be utterly crushed. A chill ran down his spine. How foolish he had been to ever think he could replace the Luther Family’s true heirs. Lost? Lost again?! Grandpa Porter’s pupils trembled violently, his face ashen as he stood frozen in place, as though he had aged ten years in an instant. How could this be? Why did it have to end like this again?! Just then, Uncle Carlos approached with a freshly brewed pot of tea. "Grandpa, your tea is ready." He set the cups down in front of Grandpa Luther and grandpa Porter. Then, leaning in close to Grandpa Luther, he whispered something in his ear. "I see," Grandpa Luther replied calmly, lifting his cup and gently stirring the tea leaves floating on the surface with the lid. "Have some tea." But grandpa Porter didn’t touch his cup. His gaze was fixed intently on Grandpa Luther as he spoke slowly, his voice tight. "Since when did you start suspecting me?" He had always prided himself on being cautious and meticulous over the years—never leaving a single trace of suspicion. How could grandpa Luther have been on guard against him and even set a trap in advance?! "I never once doubted you," Grandpa Luther set down his teacup, lifting his gaze to meet grandpa Porter’s with an air of detached calm. "Otherwise, the Porter family would have vanished from the capital long ago." His aged yet piercing eyes narrowed slightly. "But Grandpa Porter, you’ve disappointed me deeply." Though spoken mildly, the words carried an overwhelming authority that instantly froze the atmosphere in the parlor. The oppressive aura radiating from Grandpa Luther made grandpa Porter’s breath hitch, yet the fury in his heart refused to be swallowed. "Grandpa Luther, today I lost, but do you really think you’ve won?" Grandpa Porter growled through labored breaths, veins bulging across his forehead. "Little do you know, the grandson and granddaughter-in-law you’ve protected with your life have already met a gruesome end in Mileage." Grandpa Luther’s brows knitted together, but he remained silent. His sharp, fathomless eyes bore into grandpa Porter, revealing nothing. "The moment news of your poisoning spread, all those who once clung to the Luther Family’s protection couldn’t wait to strike at them," grandpa Porter sneered, his expression dark with malice. "They were just too incompetent, so I sent someone to give them a little... assistance," he sneered, his bloodshot eyes gleaming with malice as they locked onto Grandpa Luther. "Sinclair died in a car explosion—blown to pieces, not even a body left to bury." His lips curled into a venomous smirk. "And Camilla? My men surrounded her. Cut her down. What good are all your schemes now? In the end, you’ll have no one left to mourn you!" Veins bulged across grandpa Porter’s forehead and neck, his voice dripping with triumph. "On this alone, grandpa Luther, you’ve lost—utterly." "Is that so?" Grandpa Porter expected to see the devastation twist the old man’s features, but to his shock, grandpa Luther’s expression remained eerily calm. Frowning, Porter opened his mouth to retort— Then the door behind him burst open. A sweet, lilting voice cut through the tension. "I’m afraid you’ll have to swallow that disappointment, Grandpa Porter." Porter’s shrewd eyes flew wide before narrowing into slits. He whipped his head toward the doorway—and his face drained of all colors. A man and a woman stepped inside. The man was tall, his frame elegant, his features devastatingly handsome. Her jet-black eyes were like pools of undiluted ink, radiating an intensity that sent chills down one’s spine. The woman stood tall and statuesque, her striking beauty edged with an icy aloofness. A faint smile played upon her crimson lips, yet her piercing gaze remained utterly devoid of warmth. "You—" Grandpa Porter’s chest heaved violently, his breath coming in ragged gasps as if each inhalation pained him. "You two..." Samson stood frozen in shock, his mind reeling as though struck by lightning as he stared at the two figures who had just entered.

Chapter 257: How come you both are still alive?

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