Chapter 730
Chapter 730:
“Coincidence?” Harlan adjusted his glasses with deliberate slowness, his gentle smile evaporating like morning dew. His eyes turned to razor-sharp slits behind the lenses.
Suddenly, his arm shot up, the wine bottle becoming a brutal weapon as it crashed against Jorge’s skull.
With a loud crash, the bottle shattered, scattering glass everywhere. Harlan’s aristocratic features contorted into something primal and savage.
“Jorge, do you take me for a fool?” Harlan’s eyes bore into Jorge with predatory intensity. “MO helped you win the race. Word travels fast about your touching pledge of loyalty.”
Blood trickled down Jorge’s temple, but terror froze his hand at his side. His words tumbled out in desperate haste. “Mr. Welch, please, you misunderstand! I only pledged loyalty to infiltrate MO’s inner circle, to be your eyes and ears. But she’s like a fortress—impenetrable. She never gave me a real opening. Look!” He pointed to his battered face. “Her people did this to me!”
He looked utterly aggrieved. “Mr. Welch, my loyalty to you is absolute, unwavering. You promised me the Lambert family leadership. What possible reason would I have to betray that?”
Harlan took a measured sip of wine, his piercing gaze never wavering, clearly not easily convinced by Jorge’s words.
“Mr. Welch, no matter how skilled MO is, at the end of the day, she’s just a doctor. Why would I ever side with her?” Jorge spoke hurriedly, his voice laced with desperation. “You’re the only one who can actually help me. I’m not stupid. I know exactly where my loyalty should lie.”
Harlan narrowed his eyes, silently studying Jorge. Then, out of nowhere, a smirk curled on his lips. “Alright, I believe you. Get up now.” He stepped forward, offering his hand to pull Jorge to his feet. “Don’t take it personally. These are dangerous times. The last thing I need is a traitor lurking in the shadows.”
“I get it.” Jorge forced a weak smile. “As long as I have your trust now, I can deal with a little rough treatment.”
𝗿𝗼𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗼 gⲁ𝗅⁚𝗇𝗈⁚ν𝖊⁚𝗅𝘀⁚ⅽ⁚𝗈⁚𝗆
“Guards,” Harlan called out.
At once, the bodyguards stationed outside stepped in.
The sight of them sent a shiver down Jorge’s spine. If Harlan had deemed him a traitor just now, these men would have ripped him apart without hesitation.
He had seen firsthand how Harlan handled his enemies. Harlan would simply hand them over to his bodyguards, and after that, they would disappear without a trace—almost as if they had never existed.
Being a member of the Lambert family meant nothing. The Welch family still controlled the fate of the Lamberts, just as they had erased the White family overnight—so thoroughly that no one even dared to whisper their name anymore.
“Get some ice and bandages. Treat Jorge’s injuries.”
“Right away!” The bodyguards quickly brought ice and bandages, then gave Jorge basic first aid.
Jorge pressed the ice pack against his face, trying to numb the sharp sting. Harlan might have accepted his loyalty, but the fear in his eyes hadn’t faded.
“Here, have a drink. It’ll settle your nerves.” Harlan passed him a glass of wine, motioning for him to take a sip.
Jorge knew better than to refuse. He took a cautious sip.
“You understand what’s at stake if MO actually manages to heal Orson, don’t you?” Harlan asked.
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