Chapter 83: If I can’t harm him then I will go for someone else

Chapter 83: If I can’t harm him then I will go for someone else "Camilla!!" Sinclair was already fuming from Sinclair’s earlier provocation. Seeing Camilla openly disregard his dignity only stoked his fury further. "No matter what, Margaret is your elder! How dare you insult her like that?!" "Elder?" Camilla arched a delicate brow, her sweet features adorned with a playful smile. "I don’t recall having an elder who specializes in stealing husbands and wrecking families." Her voice was soft and melodious, devoid of any sharpness—as if she were merely stating an obvious fact. Margaret, struck where it hurt most, flinched. Her pupils trembled, humiliated and venom swirling in her gaze. "Enough!!" Jonathan’s face darkened, his eyes blazing with icy rage. "Camilla, I always thought you were just an orphan with no upbringing. Now I see you lack even basic decency!!" At his words, some of the shame in Margaret’s eyes faded, replaced by an inscrutable gleam as she studied Camilla. Though her status as a mother-in-law was somewhat... unofficial, Jonathan was different. No matter what, he was Sinclair’s biological father—and the blood son of Grandpa Luther. This fact could never be erased by anyone. As the current head of the Luther Family, Sinclair might have the right to talk back to his own father, Jonathan But Camilla, a newlywed who had just married into the Luther household, had no such privilege. One wrong move, and she might offend the Luther Family patriarch. At this thought, Margaret let out a silent sneer in her heart, her eyes darkening with hidden malice. Beside her, Tyler also fixed his gloomy gaze on Sinclair and Camilla, his expression unreadable. No parents? No upbringing? It was as if a thorn had suddenly pierced Camilla’s heart. Her long, thick lashes trembled slightly. Sinclair took in every nuance of her expression, his own heart clenching in pain. Slowly, he lifted his head and locked eyes with Jonathan "Jonathan" His pitch-black, fathomless eyes churned with bone-chilling hostility, as if brewing a terrifying storm. "Who gave you the right to speak about my wife like that?" His voice, low and hoarse, seemed to seep from the depths of the earth, carrying the coldest tone imaginable. Even though it was his own flesh and blood, the moment Jonathan met Sinclair’s gaze, a shiver ran down his spine, and an overwhelming sense of dread surged from within. "Jonathan, let it go," Margaret’s frail voice broke the silence. "Don’t provoke Sinclair for my sake or Tyler’s." "Sinclair, everything I said is the truth," Jonathan forced himself to speak, acutely aware of his wife and son standing behind him. "A woman like Camilla is utterly unworthy of you—let alone the title of the Luther Family’s daughter-in-Law. The old man’s judgment is clouded, but you mustn’t follow his lead!" "Is that so?" Sinclair’s lips curled into a faint smirk, but the depths of his dark, icy eyes plunged into an abyss. Those who knew him well recognized the storm brewing beneath his calm—he was teetering on the edge of fury, ready to erupt at any moment. Sure enough. Sinclair picked up the fruit knife from the coffee table, his long, elegant fingers toying with the blade. Then he lifted his gaze to Jonathan, his strikingly handsome face twisted into an inscrutable, chilling smile. "Care to guess—how fast I could pierce your heart?" "You—" Jonathan’s pupils contracted sharply as he stumbled backward a couple of steps. "You unfilial wretch! What are you trying to do? Do you dare raise a hand against your own father?!" Margaret and Tyler paled in shock, their disbelieving eyes locked on Sinclair. "Raise a hand against my father?" Sinclair’s lips curled into a cold smirk, his voice low and bone-chilling. "Without a father, how could there be patricide?" His strikingly handsome face was devoid of emotion—calm, detached, terrifying. He truly meant to kill him. The undisguised murderous intent in Sinclair’s eyes left Jonathan’s mind blank. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to the floor. Madness. Sinclair had lost his mind! All for a woman who hadn’t even been married into the family for a month—he was willing to kill his own flesh and blood! Margret and Tyler stood frozen, paralyzed by the suffocating aura radiating from Sinclair. They had considered every possibility, but never imagined Sinclair could go this far. If Jonathan died, they would lose their sole support and any standing within the Luther Family. Yet, faced with Sinclair’s current state—utterly ruthless, unrecognizable—they didn’t dare intervene. Margaret and Tyler stood frozen, lips trembling, unable to utter a word. Sinclair raised the knife, aiming it at Jonathan, the corner of his mouth curling into a chilling smirk. "You—you—" Jonathan’s pupils contracted violently, veins bulging on his forehead from sheer terror. Margaret and Tyler could barely breathe. Just as the blade was about to leave his hand, a delicate, almost ethereal hand gently tugged at Sinclair’s sleeve. He paused, glancing down at Camilla. "Sweetheart." Her expression was soft, soothing, her voice a whisper of calm. "Today is Grandpa’s birthday banquet." It wasn’t Jonathan’s life she cared about. Sinclair was the old man’s most beloved grandson—but no matter what, Jonathan was still his son. She didn’t want the elderly man to spend his birthday grieving over conflicts between his son and grandson. Moreover, Although Sinclair refused to acknowledge Jonathan as his father, blood ties were undeniable. If he were to actually kill Jonathan, he would inevitably be dragged into a whirlpool of negative public opinion. Sweetheart might not care, but she did. So even if Jonathan deserved to die, it shouldn’t happen today—and certainly not by Sinclair’s hand. A cold glint flickered in Camilla’s eyes as her fingers subtly twitched. "Camilla is right," Sinclair understood the deeper meaning behind her words, his thin lips curling into a faint, icy smile. "Today is grandpa’s birthday. I really shouldn’t ruin his mood with bloodshed." Hearing this, Jonathan’s trembling pupils gradually steadied. The overwhelming relief of narrowly escaping death hit him, making him gasp for air uncontrollably. His stiff, tense body relaxed slightly, though he still couldn’t muster the strength to stand. Margaret and Tyler, both astonished by Camilla’s influence over Sinclair, also let out quiet sighs of relief. Just as the two were about to help Jonathan up, Sinclair’s icy voice cut through the air like a blade, freezing them in place. "If I can’t touch Jonathan," he said, his tone dripping with menace, "then we’ll settle for someone else." Before any of them could react, the knife in his hand flashed through the air— "Aaaah—!" A bloodcurdling scream tore through the living room.