Chapter 258: pathetic tricks; The end of Grandpa Porter and Samson Luther

Words : 1345 Updated : Oct 11th, 2025

Chapter 258: pathetic tricks; The end of Grandpa Porter and Samson Luther "You—you two—" Grandpa Porter’s eyes bulged wide, his chest heaving violently. "How are you still alive?!" He had seen it with his own eyes—that wretched brat’s car smashed to pieces, a scene of utter devastation with no chance of survival. How could he still be breathing?! Grandpa Luther’s gaze swept over the two of them, noting the absence of any injuries. The faint crease between his brows smoothed out as he reined in his imposing aura and lowered his head to sip his tea, yielding the stage. Uncle Carlos finally exhaled in relief. Though he had received word from the Mr. Sinclair and Mrs. Camilla beforehand, hearing about their safety was nothing compared to seeing them unharmed with his own eyes. "I suppose," Sinclair drawled, guiding Camilla to sit beside him on the sofa before lazily crossing his long legs, "it’s because your tactics, much like your chess skills, haven’t improved in the slightest." His cold, sharp lips curled into a mocking smirk as he leveled grandpa Porter with an indifferent glance. "Did you really think such a clumsy scheme could kill me?" The voice was indifferent, yet carried the unmistakable arrogance and oppressive aura of someone accustomed to wielding power. "Pathetic tricks?" After years of meticulous planning, this little bastard had the audacity to dismiss it all as "pathetic tricks"?! Grandpa Porter’s fists clenched tightly at his sides, veins bulging along his neck and forehead, betraying his barely contained fury and resentment. His lips trembled as if to speak, but no words came out. After all, Sinclair’s unharmed appearance here was enough to silence any argument he might have had. "Can’t handle a few words?" Camilla observed Grandpa Porter’s reaction with keen eyes, the corners of her crimson lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. The real blow was only just the beginning. "Earlier, I overheard you lamenting outside about having no one to carry on your legacy?" Grandpa Porter glared at her, his expression darkening with suspicion. What was she playing at? Camilla sighed softly, her mesmerizing eyes glimmering with feigned sympathy. "It seems you’re already aware of what just happened to the Porter family." What happened to the Porter family? A muscle twitched in Grandpa Porter’s brow as a wave of dread crashed over him. "What do you mean? What happened to the Porter family?" His face darkened to an extreme degree as he glared at Camilla and Sinclair. "Everything was my plan alone. The others knew nothing about it. No matter what, you can’t just slaughter the innocent!" The main reason he hadn’t dragged Mr. Porter and Sandra into his schemes were to leave the Porter family a way out. *Slaughter the innocent.* Sinclair looked down at Grandpa Porter with a sneer curling his thin lips. Evil-doers always loved to point fingers at others, forgetting their own sins. "You misunderstand, grandpa Porter," Camilla spoke slowly from Sinclair’s embrace, her beautiful eyes icy. "Massacring the innocent—that’s more your style, not ours." Her voice was soft, her tone indifferent, as if she were merely commenting on the weather. "As for what exactly happened to the Porter family... Well, let’s just say Mrs. Porter murdered her husband and son before setting herself on fire." Murdered her husband and son? Set herself on fire? "You—" Every word Camilla uttered made sense to grandpa Porter, yet strung together, they sent a deafening buzz through his mind. He had no idea what she was talking about. "What nonsense are you talking about?!" Grandpa Luther’s fingers, which had been idly toying with his agarwood prayer beads, suddenly stilled. His aged yet piercing eyes widened in astonishment. "Didn’t hear me clearly?" Camilla narrowed her beautiful eyes as she glanced back at Luke behind her. "Let’s show grandpa Porter the proof with his own eyes." "Right away, Madam." Luke immediately stepped forward with understanding, connecting the laptop to the projector facing the assembled group. The projector displayed scenes that unfolded before everyone’s eyes. From the moment Mrs. Porter dismissed the servants from the courtyard, to Mr. Porter and his son collapsing after drinking poisoned tea, and finally, Mrs. Porter splashing gasoline and setting the house ablaze—everything was swiftly consumed by the raging inferno. Every detail of what had transpired within the Porter family in just a few short hours was laid bare. "No... NO!!" Grandpa Porter trembled with fury, his eyes bulging as if they might burst from their sockets. "That venomous witch! That damned, heartless snake!" He shot up from the sofa, jabbing a shaking finger at the image of Mrs. Porter on the screen—only to stagger and collapse onto the floor. "She dared to wipe out the direct lineage of our Porter family! I should have killed her long ago... I should have ended up with her myself!!" "To be fair," Camilla said coolly, turning her gaze away from the screen to regard grandpa Porter, her crimson lips parting with deliberate calm, "you can’t place all the blame on Mrs. Porter." Her striking eyes narrowed slightly as she delivered the next words, each syllable as sharp as a blade. "After all, it was Mr. Porter who murdered Sandra first." A pause, then the final twist of the knife. "Everything she did... was simply a mother’s vengeance for her daughter." What?! Porter even killed Sandra?! Grandpa Porter received yet another devastating blow, standing frozen in place with his eyes wide in shock. Camilla remained silent. The projector screen had already switched to footage showing Mr. Porter tied Sandra up in a dockside warehouse and burned her alive. Grandpa Luther paused in his absentminded fiddling with his agarwood prayer beads, his eyes revealing profound emotion. He’d watched grandpa Porter and the others grow up—who could have imagined they’d meet such an end? Truly, how unpredictable life could be. Grandpa Porter was now speechless, his chest heaving violently as his breathing became labored and strained. Everything he’d done had been for the sake of the Porter family’s main bloodline. Not only had his plans failed, but his entire family had been wiped out—all through their own internecine struggles. How could he possibly accept this?! Heaven itself must want the Porter family destroyed!! At this thought, grandpa Porter’s eyes bulged suddenly as he violently coughed up a mouthful of blood. His vitality drained away at terrifying speed, as though both feet had already crossed the threshold of the underworld. Grandpa Luther lowered his gaze, refusing to look any further. Sinclair and Camilla wore identical expressions of icy detachment, their eyes as cold as winter frost. The Porter family had brought this upon themselves—no one else was to blame. Even Dr. Robert’s gaze held not a shred of pity. Truly, the wretched reap what they sow. After a long, tense silence, "It was my miscalculation," Grandpa Porter’s voice was hoarse as he stared at Grandpa Luther, his face ashen with defeat. "Grandpa Luther, just kill me." Those once-sharp, commanding eyes now held no life, a far cry from the proud patriarch who had once steered the Porter family with unshakable confidence. Grandpa Luther’s expression darkened, but before he could speak, another voice cut in first. "Killing you would only dirty my grandpa’s hands." Sinclair spoke slowly, his handsome face as unreadable as ever, yet exuding an air of effortless superiority, as though he stood above it all. "Guards," he commanded, his voice chillingly composed, "take grandpa Porter away and administer the S-Series serum." His hoarse voice carried a bone-chilling coldness that sent shivers down one’s spine. "Once the drug takes effect, have him locked up in the psychiatric hospital on the outskirts of the city." S-Type Serum?! Samson’s pupils trembled slightly. This serum had only recently been developed by the Luther Corporation. It could cause muscle atrophy in the limbs, rendering the victim immobile—reducing them to a state akin to a vegetable, with only their five senses intact. They would become entirely dependent on others for survival. In other words— Trapped between life and death, unable to escape either.

Chapter 258: pathetic tricks; The end of Grandpa Porter and Samson Luther

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