Just three words were enough to convey Grandpa Luther's stance.
Jonathan nearly fell off his chair.
His face turned deathly pale, drained of all color, filled only with sheer terror and despair.
"Dad... I'm your own flesh and blood—" "Carlos" Grandpa Luther's expression remained utterly impassive.
His gaze toward Jonathan was as piercing as shards of ice, devoid of any warmth.
"Take him away.
Deal with him according to the family rules."
Family rules.
Four simple words, yet they weighed so heavily that not a single member of the Luther clan dared to breathe too loudly.
"Understood."
Uncle Carlos's eyes flickered with understanding.
Though the order was phrased as "family rules," the implications were far from simple. "You two—take him away."
Two mercenaries immediately stepped forward, seizing Jonathan and dragging him out of the room.
Camilla stood beside Grandpa, her cold gaze fixed on the unfolding scene.
