Chapter 300: Calvin Mistakenly answered Tiffany call

Words : 1596 Updated : Oct 15th, 2025

Chapter 300: Calvin Mistakenly answered Tiffany call "It was all done under aliases through external organizations in Country E. Very few people are aware of the details." Antonio’ assistant looked up at Antonio, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. "But sir, Sinclair’s methods and capabilities are extraordinary. For your safety, it would be best if we returned to Country E immediately." "Extraordinary?" Antonio paused slightly, his mind flashing to the image of that man. His dark eyes gleamed with an inscrutable intensity. "I’d like to see just how extraordinary he is." Turning, he tossed his gloves into his assistant’s arms and strode out with long, purposeful steps. "Move the timeline forward. There’s no point in dragging this out any longer." His handsome, composed face betrayed nothing, yet an unsettling aura clung to him. The assistant glanced at the horrifying scene on the operating table and shuddered involuntarily. Fumbling, he threw the rubber gloves into the trash and hurried after Antonio. Meanwhile, in the basement of the Luther Family estate. The bright lights did little to dispel the thick, oppressive air of blood and dread. A refined yet imposing man sat on the sofa, his long legs crossed elegantly. Between his slender, well-defined fingers, a cigarette burned steadily. Pale wisps of smoke curled from his lips, dissipating slowly into the heavy silence. The strikingly handsome face, godlike in its perfection, was partially veiled in shadow. Those piercing black eyes, so intense they were almost unbearable to meet, gazed indifferently through the one-way glass into the interrogation room. Inside, several foreign men lay sprawled on the floor, their bodies battered and bloodied. A few more were bound in the corner. The thick, metallic scent of blood hung heavily in the air. "Talk," Luke growled, delivering a brutal punch to the jaw of a burly foreign man. "Who sent you to tail Madam?" The force of the blow was staggering, sending a trickle of crimson seeping from the man’s lips. "Where did you plant the tracker?" The man spat out a tooth stained with blood, hitting Luke squarely. His deep brown eyes, cold and reptilian, locked onto Luke as he spoke in heavily accented American. "Pah! What Madam? What tracker?" "We’re just tourists visiting America. No idea what you’re talking about." "You dare spit on me?" Wiping the bloody spittle from his face, Luke’s lips curled into a vicious sneer. His expression darkened instantly, brimming with menace. "Traveling, huh? Let me send you straight to your final destination." Luke seized the man by the nape of his neck and slammed his head viciously into the corner of the table. *Thud!* A dull impact echoed through the room as blood splattered across the table’s edge. Agony tore a guttural scream from the man’s throat, his body thrashing wildly in a desperate attempt to break free. But Luke had no intention of letting him escape. Gripping the back of his skull, he smashed it into the corner again— Again. And again. Crimson streaks of blood trickled down the table and pooled on the floor. Soon, the man’s struggles ceased entirely. "Bones are softer than your mouth, after all." Luke released his grip, and the lifeless body collapsed backward with a heavy thump. A gaping, grotesque wound—the size of the table’s corner—was left exposed to the man’s skull. In the shadows of the interrogation room, the other men had already been pale—but now, their faces are drained of all remaining color. Sinclair, seemingly amused by the scene, allowed the faintest smirk to curl the edges of his thin lips. The interrogation continued. Luke frowned as he glanced at the mercenary beside him. "Next—" With Mr. Luther was still watching from the next room, he had to make these men talk as quickly as possible. The two mercenaries nodded and immediately strode toward the bound men in the corner. As dusk settled over the villa in the western district, Tiffany was busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, with Grandma Calvin eagerly assisting. Though whether her help was actually useful was another matter entirely. The two chatted and laughed, filling the space with warmth. Just then, Calvin descended the stairs, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable as he took in the scene. "Smell the food, didn’t you, you rascal?" Grandma Calvin teased the moment she noticed her grandson. "Come see what Fanny’s made for you!" She couldn’t be happier with Tiffany—such a gentle and sweet granddaughter-in-law. All she wanted now was for the two of them to settle down, start a family, and give her a great-grandchild sooner rather than later. In the end, he managed to pull ahead and arrive even earlier than Grandpa Luther. "Just some home-style dishes. Hope they suit your taste," Tiffany turned her head to glance at Calvin, offering him a warm smile before returning to her tasks. Calvin had initially planned to keep his distance, but that smile drew him in against his will. The dining table was laden with all his favorite dishes—no doubt his grandmother had deliberately shared his preferences. "Looks perfect for my taste," Calvin said, his gaze lingering on the steaming dishes before he added coolly, "but I have something urgent to take care of." "Afraid I won’t have the pleasure." If she wanted them to return to their separate paths as quickly as possible, he couldn’t afford to delay any longer. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair to her. "Aren’t you eating?" Tiffany paused mid-motion and turned to look at Calvin. Deep in her striking eyes flickered a trace of disappointment—one she hadn’t even noticed herself. "What’s so urgent?" The smile instantly faded from Grandma Calvin’s face as she shot her grandson a disapproving glare. "Too urgent to spare even a few minutes for dinner?" What she couldn’t stand the most was how he neglected his health whenever work consumed him. Today, she’d finally caught him red-handed, and she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. Besides, this entire spread was the result of Fanny’s hard work—and hers too, of course. Well, mostly Fanny’s. "Grandma, I" Calvin barely opened his mouth before his grandmother cut him off with a scolding tone. "I don’t want to hear it. Fanny spent all afternoon preparing these dishes." Still lecturing, Grandma Calvin dragged him by the arm and forced him into a seat at the dining table. "You’ll eat whether you like it or not." She sat across from Calvin, her dignified face openly seething with anger. "Otherwise, I won’t eat either. I’ll starve myself!" This little old lady was pulling the same trick again. Calvin arched a brow, his long, peach-blossom eyes brimming with exasperation. "Fine, I won’t go." "Hmph." The moment the words left his lips, grandma. Calvin’s stern expression melted into a satisfied smile. "That’s more like it." Tiffany’s red lips curled slightly. She wasn’t sure if it was because the old lady was just too endearing—or because Calvin was staying for dinner. Calvin quickly sent Jey a message, instructing him to wait for Camilla at the gate. Jey replied immediately. "Stay seated," Calvin said, slipping his phone away as he rose from his chair and headed toward the kitchen. "I’ll go help out." Not bad, he’s catching on. "Go ahead, go ahead." Grandma. Calvin certainly wouldn’t intrude on their alone time. She stood up and headed outside. "I’ll take a short walk to stretch my legs—work up an appetite for later." Calvin moved to Tiffany’s side, gazing down at her with a gentle warmth in his eyes. "Is there anything I can help with?" "No need," Tiffany replied, looking up at his impossibly handsome face—like something straight out of a manga—and shook her head with a bright, crescent-eyed smile. "It’ll be ready soon." She lowered her head again, focusing on chopping the vegetables in front of her. Calvin didn’t say another word. Instead, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch effortless and natural. Tiffany didn’t seem to notice anything unusual, continuing her task without pause. Only the delicate, jade-like lobes of her ears gradually flushed pink. Silent, Calvin leaned back against the counter, content to simply stay by her side. The atmosphere was warm and cozy. From a distance, grandma. Calvin watched the two standing together, a contented smile spreading across her face. After dinner, she whisked Tiffany away to the back garden, eager to show her around. Meanwhile, Calvin settled on the sofa, sorting through documents when his phone—no, wait, it was Tiffany’s phone—there was a bus beside him. Without a second glance, he picked it up and swiped to answer. "Junior Tiffany—" A man’s voice, warm and clear, drifted through the receiver. Tiffany? Junior?! Calvin’s finely arched brows knitted together instantly. Only then did he realize he had accidentally picked up Tiffany’s phone. But who the hell was this so-called "senior"? When the caller received no response, he spoke again, his tone laced with that trademark gentle amusement." Junior, it’s Antonio. Can you hear me?" Antonio? Calvin’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, an unmistakable flicker of displeasure flashing in their depths. Hmph. Just the name alone sounded like trouble. "I can hear you," Calvin leaned back against the sofa, his tone laced with something unreadable as he couldn’t resist adding, "But Fanny’s in the shower. Try calling back later." In the shower? Antonio froze at Calvin’s words, his brow furrowing deeply. "Then please have her call me when she’s—" Before he could finish, the line went dead with a sharp dial tone. Clearly, the other man had already hung up.

Chapter 300: Calvin Mistakenly answered Tiffany call

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