Chapter 29
Chapter 29:
Hearing those unsettling words, Ector strode across the room to confront Cristian. The refined, pleasant expression he usually wore had vanished, replaced by an icy severity that chilled the air. His sharp eyes bore into Cristian, searching for any hint of deceit—yet found none. Cristian’s face was divided by a carefree, mocking smile. He lounged with the ease of a spoiled aristocrat, discussing matters of the heart as if they were mere trifles.
Driven by a surge of protective anger, Ector seized Cristian by the collar, his grip uncompromising. “Consider this a serious warning,” he said in a low, menacing voice. “Stay away from my sister!”
Cristian chuckled lightly as he freed himself. “Mr. Morgan, is violence really necessary?” he teased. “Who knows? Perhaps I’ll be your brother-in-law soon. It seems improper for us to be at odds, doesn’t it?”
“No way!” Ector snapped, his rejection immediate. “That will never happen.”
“Oh, really?” Cristian’s smirk deepened, his gaze drifting away lazily. “It appears you’re not the one who makes that decision. That’s up to your sister.”
Ector stepped back, his posture protective. “And don’t presume she lacks support from her family,” he declared, pointing at Cristian. “With me as her brother, you won’t lay a finger on her!”
With that, Ector spun on his heel and marched out. As he opened the VIP room door, he caught sight of Bobby lingering outside. He shot Bobby a look of sheer contempt before passing him without a word.
Both cousins were rotten to the core, but in completely opposite ways. Bobby was infamous for his frivolous pursuits and charm with women, whereas Cristian seemed utterly disinterested in romantic entanglements.
Despite his playboy reputation, Cristian rarely sought female company. Ector had always believed him to be distant and emotionally detached. The thought of such a man showing interest in his sister unnerved him. It didn’t bode well.
Lаtєѕt chɑptєrs іn g𝑎lnοvєls.𝑐ο𝗺
Furthermore, navigating the sprawling, intricate web of the Reed family relations would surely overwhelm Fernanda. Her life had been modest and uncomplicated, shaped by growing up with only Hiram by her side. The prospect of her entanglement with Cristian seemed fraught with unnecessary complexities. No matter how Ector turned it over in his mind, he saw no merit in any relationship between Fernanda and Cristian.
Meanwhile, stunned by Ector’s scathing glare, Bobby wandered into the meeting room, perplexed. He looked at Cristian, confusion evident. “Cristian, why did Ector glare at me like that? I didn’t do anything to provoke him!” he protested, seeking some reassurance.
Cristian remained silent, replaying Ector’s heated words in his mind. Under normal circumstances, anyone who dared address him with such disrespect—or lay hands on him—would have swiftly met the wrath of his fists. But this time, he refrained. Instead, a strange sense of happiness bubbled within him. Ector’s fury only underscored his profound concern for Fernanda, a sign that he genuinely cared and sought to protect her. This realization brought Cristian relief and satisfaction for Fernanda’s sake.
As Bobby approached, he noticed the disarray of Cristian’s shirt, his eyes widening in shock. “Who was it? Was it Ector?” he asked, intrigue and concern lacing his voice.
Cristian offered no reply. Bobby clicked his tongue, a knowing look crossing his face as he pondered the tension between his cousin and Ector. Did their conversation last mere minutes before it erupted into chaos? His angel’s magnetic charm was absolutely unrivaled.
Leaning in, Bobby nudged Cristian playfully, his curiosity piqued. “So, tell me, who won the fight just now?”
“That’s none of your concern,” Cristian muttered under his breath, his patience wearing thin. Without another word, he turned on his heel and exited the room. Bobby watched him go, a smirk playing on his lips as he pieced together the unspoken truth—Cristian had lost to Ector. Cristian’s shirt was crumpled, a stark contrast to Ector’s pristine attire, silently testifying that Cristian had not resisted. Ector departed with a swagger that broadcast his arrogance for all to see.
Bobby sensed a new barrier had arisen between Cristian and his pursuit of Fernanda, complicating matters due to her uncommon allure. Meanwhile, upon returning to the opulent Morgan family estate, Fernanda sneezed repeatedly.
Erika, lounging disdainfully on the couch, scoffed, “Do you realize how many germs a single sneeze releases? If you must sneeze, please do it outside. It’s bad luck to bring that into the home.”
In response, Fernanda approached Erika and let loose two more sneezes. “If those viruses are that dangerous, maybe one will finally put you out of everyone’s misery.”
Erika’s eyes flared with shock. “How dare you wish death upon me!”
“It’s all just your belief in silly superstitions.” A smirk played on Fernanda’s lips. “Did you know? Those obsessed with their fears often have the frailest life force.”
This concept was entirely foreign to Erika. “Perhaps you should educate yourself by reading more,” Fernanda retorted, her voice tinged with scorn. “Focus on expanding your knowledge, not your superstitions. After all, knowledge is power.”
Without another word, Fernanda strode upstairs, her calm demeanor contrasting sharply with Erika’s boiling rage. She had uttered a few words, yet this country bumpkin had launched into a lengthy retort!
Lost in thought, Erika was jolted by a sudden, thunderous thud that made her jump in fright. Glancing upward, she caught sight of a black suitcase tumbling down the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, Fernanda stood with a mischievous grin, calling down to Erika, “Dad instructed us to remove Crowell from our residence. The servants have packed his belongings. Perhaps you’d like to deliver them?”
With that, Fernanda dragged a pink suitcase to the top of the stairs and sent it hurtling down as well. “And here’s your cousin Amber’s.” The suitcases clattered and rolled before coming to a stop.
Erika, dumbfounded, watched Fernanda casually brush off her hands and retreat upstairs. Crowell had been hospitalized since the previous evening, his right wrist fractured and wrapped in a fresh cast after X-rays, still confined to the hospital. Michelle remained by his side, comforting him as they waited out Robert’s wrath for a few days before daring to return.
Both Crowell and Amber had grown up frequently visiting the Morgan family estate, and Robert had always treated them kindly. His sudden desire to expel them clearly stemmed from profound irritation rather than a genuine wish to see them go. So, why had Fernanda preemptively decided to dispatch their luggage? Who did she think she was, dictating the comings and goings within the Morgan family villa?
Frustrated, Erika ordered the servants to haul the suitcases back upstairs, only for Fernanda to kick them down once more five minutes later. The persistent thudding made Erika clench her fists in fury. She finally exploded, her voice trembling with frustration, “Fernanda, you are going too far!”
“Is that so?” Fernanda’s tone was sharp as she folded her arms, staring down at Erika disdainfully. “Sharing a roof with someone who dared assault me is revolting. I want them out of here.”
“And who are you to decide?” Erika stormed to the foot of the stairs, her eyes blazing as she looked up at Fernanda. “You have no right to dictate what happens in the Morgan family!”
“I’m not dictating anything—I’m merely adhering to Dad’s wishes,” Fernanda retorted with a casual shrug and a sly smile. “He’s the one who insisted they leave, remember?”
“He said that in a moment of anger—he didn’t truly mean it!” Erika protested.
“Really?” Fernanda nodded slightly, gesturing subtly towards Erika’s back. “Perhaps you should confirm with Dad himself and hear what he has to say.”
Whirling around, Erika’s eyes widened as she spotted Robert at the entrance.
“Dad…” She dashed towards him, gripping his sleeve tightly, her voice teeming with urgency as she recounted Fernanda’s bold move of tossing the suitcases out.
Robert’s expression darkened, his brows knitting together as he turned to face Fernanda. “This is the Morgan family villa, not some backwater farmhouse. Act accordingly!”
Unperturbed by the scolding, Fernanda met Robert’s gaze with cold indifference. “I’m not sharing this house with those disgusting parasites. It’s them or me—choose wisely.”
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