Chapter 259: The final end of Grandpa Porter and Samson Luther

Words : 1360 Updated : Oct 11th, 2025

Chapter 259: The final end of Grandpa Porter and Samson Luther No dignity. No respect. For a man like Grandpa Porter—a man who had lived his entire life in power and glory—such an end was nothing short of the cruelest torment. Samson felt a chill crawl up from his feet, seeping into his very soul. If even grandpa Porter had been reduced to such a wretched state, what fate awaited him?! Grandpa Porter clearly knew of this drug’s existence. His lifeless eyes flickered faintly, veins bulging grotesquely across his forehead. "My friend," he rasped, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. "After decades of friendship, all I ask now is a dignified death." His gaze locked onto Grandpa Luther, desperate. "You wouldn’t deny me even that, would you?" Uncle Carlos watched the scene unfold, his brow furrowed in disgust. Even now, this man had the audacity to play on Grandpa Luther’s sympathy? He could only pray the old man wouldn’t soften. "The moment the Porter family conspired against Camilla at the birthday banquet, any bond between us was severed," Grandpa Luther said coldly, his aged yet commanding face hardened like steel. "I’ll unconditionally support whatever Sinclair decides to do with you." "Fine, fine." Grandpa Porter’s eyes were instantly filled with despair. When he turned to Sinclair, his gaze had already morphed into something venomous and terrifying. "Sinclair, you ruthless little bastard! Even if I die, I won’t let you have your way!" As he spoke, he mustered every last ounce of strength and hurled his head toward the jade corner of the coffee table. Want to die? Dream on. Sinclair’s thin lips curled slightly. Before the old man could act, he lifted his foot and kicked the coffee table with brutal force. **BANG—** With a deafening crash, the table was sent skidding across the floor. Grandpa Porter missed his target entirely, collapsing heavily onto the ground, too weak to even lift himself up. He lay there, utterly humiliated, like a stray dog with nowhere to go. "Don’t worry. Not only will I *not* let you die, I’ll make sure you live—live *well*." Sinclair leaned forward, his strikingly handsome face wearing a faint, knowing smile as he gazed down at the old man. "Just so you can watch... how the Porter family vanishes from the capital." Camilla’s crimson lips curled slightly. Sweetheart had truly mastered the art of crushing one’s spirit along with their body. Grandpa Porter’s eyes bulged with fury, his expression bordering on madness. "Sinclair, you—" Before he could finish, two mercenaries gagged him and dragged him away by force. And just like that, the once-revered business tycoon of the capital met his downfall. The living room fell silent once more. "Mr. Sinclair, Mrs. Camilla," Uncle Carlos set down freshly brewed tea in front of Sinclair and Camilla. They had been on the move all this time—it must have been exhausting. Sinclair picked up a cup, tested its warmth in his palm, then handed it to Camilla. "Here, drink some." His gesture was effortless, as if he couldn’t care less about the onlookers. Camilla, seemingly accustomed to this, took a sip before passing the cup back to him without a second thought. Sinclair’s gaze softened as he raised the same cup to his lips and drained the remaining tea in one go. Love and indifference are both revealed in the smallest details of daily interactions. Grandpa Luther observed the subtle exchange between the two, his eyes brimming with quiet satisfaction. The bond between these young ones had flourished beyond any need for his concern. Yet, amidst this warmth, Samson remained utterly oblivious. Every fiber of his being was consumed by sheer terror. Seated on the sofa, Sinclair lifted his gaze languidly, his cold eyes locking onto Samson. *Thud—* A single, icy glance was all it took. Samson’s face drained of color as his knees buckled beneath him, crashing onto the floor. "Cousin," he stammered, staring up at the man before him—a figure of breathtaking elegance, yet one that might as well have been the Grim Reaper himself. "Everything—it was all grandpa Porter’s doing! That old devil forced me into it!" His forehead struck the ground repeatedly in frantic kowtows. "I was wrong—I swear I’ve learned my lesson! Please... just end me quickly." If there had been even a sliver of hope for survival in Grandpa Luther’s presence, here before Sinclair, all he begged for was a swift and merciful death. Sinclair looked down at Samson with undisguised contempt, his thin lips parting slightly. "Out of respect for grandpa, I’ll grant you this mercy." He drew a pistol from his coat, cocking it with one hand before leveling it at Samson. "Bang!" Samson’s head exploded like an overripe watermelon, sending gory fragments splattering in all directions. "Uncle Carlos,"Grandpa Luther didn’t even glance at the corpse, keeping his aged eyes fixed on the teacup in his hands as he spoke with chilling detachment. "Have this cleaned up." His weathered voice betrayed no emotion. "Banish every remaining member of his branch from America. None may return until the Luther Family changes hands." By "changing hands," he meant when Sinclair would eventually pass the family leadership to the next generation. "Understood!" Uncle Carlos immediately grasped grandpa Luther’s meaning and began directing the cleanup with military efficiency. "And not just Samson," Sinclair spoke in a chilling tone. "All those who betray the Luther Family must be dealt with." "Don’t worry," Grandpa Luther replied, his deep-set eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke deliberately. "I’ve already given the orders. Not a single one will slip away." Sinclair lowered his gaze and fell silent. His grandfather’s methods were too lenient—he’d have to add his own touch. Amid the heavy silence, Camilla spoke up softly. "Grandpa, I’m sorry," she said, rising to pour him another cup of tea, her expression brimming with an earnest apology. "I shouldn’t have lied to you and made you worry." At the time, her concern for Sinclair had overridden everything else. Sinclair paused and turned his dark, inscrutable eyes toward the old man. Though he didn’t utter a word, Grandpa Luther understood the unspoken message. The brat hadn’t even said anything, yet he was already worried he’d scolded Camilla? "Useless things, becoming more worthless by the day." "You were just worried about Sinclair. Besides," Grandpa Luther’s gaze swept dismissively past Sinclair before softening as it landed on Camilla, "if it weren’t for your careful planning and precautions beforehand "No one can say for sure how tonight’s situation might have turned out. Grandpa should be thanking you instead." Seeing that the elder truly wasn’t angry, Camilla finally relaxed. "Let me check your pulse to see how the detoxification is progressing." Doctor Alex’s medical skills were excellent—that’s why she’d chosen him to administer the day’s acupuncture treatment in her stead. Still, not doing it herself left her somewhat uneasy. Moreover, though Sinclair hadn’t said anything, she could see how concerned he was about his grandfather. Checking the pulse directly would set his mind at ease. Understanding the young couple’s worries, Grandpa offered no resistance. Camilla placed the pulse pillow and gently positioned his wrist upon it, focusing intently. The living room fell into complete silence once more. Sinclair didn’t look up, but at some point, his habitual motion of wiping his fingers had stilled. After a quiet interval, Camilla withdrew her hand. Her clear, limpid eyes didn’t look at Grandpa Luther, but instead turned toward Sinclair with a gentle smile. "Dr. Alex’s acupuncture technique is excellent. The toxins are being eliminated smoothly. Just a few more days, and Grandpa will make a full recovery." Sinclair remained silent, but the slight tension in his shoulders eased. "It’s getting late. I’ll have the kitchen prepare some dishes for you," Grandpa Luther said warmly, glancing at the time. "Eat up and get some rest." Though Camilla had little appetite, she didn’t want to worry about grandpa and nodded with a smile. "Alright, let me help you back to your room first." Grandpa Luther cast a glance at Sinclair before nodding in agreement. Meanwhile, a pair of bloodshot eyes watched Sinclair intently from the second floor.

Chapter 259: The final end of Grandpa Porter and Samson Luther

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