Following Simon Hawthorne’s question, the man’s eyes flickered, and his body trembled even more violently. Tears streamed down his face, full of sorrow. "No, there was no catalyst. It was my own audacity. I wanted to instigate Leo Linden so I could get a sum of money from him..."
Simon rested his elbow on the armrest, pressing his fingertips against his temple. His gaze could only be described as indifferent. "As far as I know, your son also gambles. He owes over seven hundred thousand, and his wife is already six months pregnant. Once this could no longer be kept a secret, she threatened a divorce and an abortion. Naturally, you didn’t want to see your unborn grandson gone just like that, so you took a desperate risk?"
The man nodded, his eyes red. "Yes... I was blinded by greed."
Mr. Hawthorne’s face darkened, furious at his failure to live up to expectations. "Miller, you fool! You’re always so honest on normal days. How could you dare?!"
"Honest." Simon spoke up. "You’ve worked for the Hawthorne Family for nearly twenty years. Even my grandfather knows you’re an honest man without a scheming bone in your body. Tell me the truth—did no one put you up to this?"
Miller zoned out for a moment.
A conversation unexpectedly echoed in his mind.
"Leo Linden is out of options, after all. If he finds out that Zoe is married into the Hawthorne Family, who knows what he might do."
"Leo is a gambler; he’s obsessed with money. For a greedy person like him, demanding tens of millions wouldn’t be an issue. Luckily, he knows nothing and is heading back to his hometown soon."
"Oh? Mr. Miller? When did you get here? You didn’t hear anything, did you?"
He had only been passing by by chance that day, unexpectedly overhearing that subtle conversation. No matter how dull-witted he was, he could follow the breadcrumbs to a viable, wicked idea. He thought of his unborn grandson, his son who was about to be hunted down by loan sharks, and his family that was on the verge of being torn apart.
But now... Miller sweated profusely, his face pale and pitiful.
Simon narrowed his long eyes. "Still not going to talk?"
Shane Shaw stepped on Miller’s ankle bone, applying a precise, specialized pressure that brought him to the brink of fainting from the pain.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
Peyton Joyce strolled in from outside. Seeing Miller on the ground, a flash of panic crossed her face. She hurriedly asked, "What happened? Why are you treating Mr. Miller like this?"
Miller’s expression shifted slightly when he saw her.
Mr. Hawthorne’s expression softened. "Peyton, go outside. Don’t let this frighten you."
Peyton shook her head, looking distressed. "Mr. Miller is getting on in years. If there’s an issue, can’t you talk it out? Do you really have to..."
Simon tilted his head to look at her. His eyes were as cold and clear as the bright moon, so penetrating that no filth could hide from them. "You came at the right time. This man is utterly heartless and almost caused the Hawthorne Residence to commit a grave injustice. You should listen to the details too, so you won’t misjudge people in the future."
Meeting those eyes, Peyton felt her heart sink for some inexplicable reason, and she couldn’t help but shiver. Perhaps unaccustomed to such a scene, she nodded, her face slightly pale, and cast a glance at Miller.
Simon calmly shifted his gaze back to Miller. His tone was unflappable but carried a terrifying, hidden lethality. "As long as you tell the truth, there is still room for leniency. Otherwise, you’ll end up losing both the money and your life. The loss would outweigh the gain, wouldn’t it?"
He truly had a knack for striking where it hurt most. He guided patiently; if they were sensible, he left them a way out, but if they refused to listen, he would throw them into the abyss.
Miller’s face flushed a bruised purple. The agonizing pain in his ankle pushed him to the edge, while Simon’s words systematically dismantled his psychological defenses. Shane watched him coldly, increasing the pressure without batting an eye.
Miller let out a bloodcurdling scream. Even Peyton shuddered from head to toe.
Miller’s eyes lost focus; no one knew exactly who he was looking at. "Please, spare my family. They are innocent! I’ve served the Hawthorne Family for twenty years. I’ll take the blame for what I’ve done! Can you... please take care of my family?"
Simon’s cold eyes held no warmth. This was unexpected. Miller surprisingly didn’t confess anything.
Mr. Hawthorne was the first to speak. "Enough! All this shouting... Since he’s said this much, what other answer do you want?" He put a stop to the farce unfolding before him. "Hand him over to the police. Let them handle him however they see fit. Everyone, dismiss."
The old man didn’t want to investigate any further. Simon stared deeply at his grandfather, trying to discern something from his expression.
Miller was dragged out.
Peyton looked as though she had suffered quite a fright; her complexion was poor. Before she could fully recover, she heard Simon say, "Since you understand the situation now, Grandpa, you can’t say Zoe is at fault. On the contrary, the Hawthorne Family should be apologizing to her."
The old man’s gaze was profound. "You put on this whole show just to protect her, didn’t you? At this point, what more can I say?"
Divorce, naturally, was no longer on the table.
Simon nodded. "I just wanted fairness. It’s best that no one is wronged."
The old man was exasperated but ultimately couldn’t argue. He waved his hand. "Leave."
Simon finally stood up. "If you still have any doubts, I can send you all the surveillance footage I found. Rest well, Grandpa." He turned and left.
Peyton remained seated in her chair. She unconsciously watched the man’s tall, retreating figure, pursing her lips to hide her complex, bitter emotions.
Mr. Hawthorne’s gaze landed on Peyton. "Peyton, come here," he said, his tone unfathomable.
Peyton snapped back to reality. She walked to the bedside. "Grandpa, please don’t be mad at Simon. That’s just how he is. He’s never known how to yield, and once he sets his mind on something, he won’t let go. He definitely wasn’t trying to go against you."
The old man sighed. "I know." He looked at Peyton. "Simon has always been assertive and excessively brilliant since he was a child. Most of the time, his mind is as clear as a mirror. It’s just that he hides his thoughts deeply. Once he erupts, it’s very easy for him to leave himself no way out."
Peyton’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. She looked at him in confusion, her pale pink lips twitching as she asked in a soft, gentle voice, "Grandpa, what do you mean?"
The old man instead looked out the window, where the tree branches were faintly sprouting new buds. "You’ve suffered too much for Simon. He remembers it all in his heart. It’s only a matter of time before you two end up together, so let nature take its course. The deeper his guilt towards you, the easier it will be to manage. As for everything else... it’s unnecessary. Don’t exhaust yourself."
After saying this, the old man went to rest.
Peyton stepped out into the courtyard corridor. The sky was still overcast. Passing by a servant, she subconsciously called out, "How is... Mr. Miller doing?"
Seeing her ask, the servant quickly replied, "He was sent away by Mr. Hawthorne. I really didn’t expect it. Miller had such nerve, actually daring to conspire to kidnap the young madam..."
Peyton’s lips curled into a faint smile, and she waved her hand. "Go back to your work."
She lowered her head, looking at her palm, which she had dug her nails into so hard indoors that it had broken the skin, and spaced out. She thought back to a short while ago when she saw Mr. Miller worrying about money and had purposely given him a hundred thousand in private. And this mere hundred thousand... had actually bought his loyalty.
Peyton stood there for quite some time. It wasn’t until a cold wind blew past, making her inexplicably shiver, that she finally lowered her eyes and continued walking forward, her expression returning to normal.
At Somerset Gardens.
Zoe hadn’t slept a wink all night, only drifting off after dawn broke. When she woke up, it was already approaching five in the afternoon. She hadn’t expected to be this exhausted. If it hadn’t been for the commotion downstairs, she probably would have kept sleeping.
As she went downstairs, a figure immediately lunged at her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Zoe! You’re finally awake! Simon wouldn’t let me go up and bother you."
Zoe looked at Autumn Linden in surprise. "Why are you here?"
Autumn instinctively glanced at the man working in the living room and whispered into Zoe’s ear, "Did you have a fight with Simon? He came to pick me up from school and said you were in a bad mood lately, so he wanted me to come keep you company."
Zoe felt a surge of annoyance. She shot a fierce glare at Simon, who was calmly sitting at the bar counter looking at his laptop. "What did you say to Autumn?"
Simon turned his head, his expression impassive.
Seeing this eerie atmosphere, Autumn shrank back, suddenly at a loss for what to do. Right then, the doorbell rang. Autumn hurriedly said, "I’ll—I’ll go get the door!"
She swiftly fled the battlefield, but the moment she opened the door, the smile on her face froze completely.
Instead, the man at the door, who was a head taller than her, narrowed his eyes and leaned down. He stared closely at her, a half-smile on his face that was exceptionally terrifying. "Why did you stop smiling, little sister?"