Chapter 246

Chapter 246

Emily frowned slightly, as though mulling over his words. After a moment, she nodded in agreement.

"I felt the same way... Something about him just screamed 'dangerous.' All I could think about was getting away from him as fast as possible."

She'd never gotten that vibe from Drew.

Emily kept that latter thought to herself, worried it might stir up Charles's jealousy. Instead, she simply looked up at him, her eyes full of understanding.

Hearing this, Charles tightened his arm around her, the unease in his chest intensifying.

He lowered his gaze, thinking for a moment before speaking.

"Roy—the one who attacked you—he was working for someone. I've had Mike investigating, but we don't have results yet. Whoever's behind this is targeting you. You need to be careful. From now on... whenever you go out, take Cressida with you."

What he really wanted to say was: Just stay home. Don't go anywhere.

But they couldn't catch the culprit while hiding forever, and Emily wasn't the type to cower in fear. All he could do was work harder to protect her.

With that thought, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Sean Gray, asking him to assist Mike within whatever capacity he could manage.

At the very least, he needed to identify tonight's mystery man.

Charles didn't know Delbert's identity or his motives, but he was certain of one thing: this man appearing near Emily meant nothing good.

Whoever he was, whatever scheme he had brewing, Charles would never allow anyone to harm Emily—or threaten everything he held dear.

……

Not long after Charles's car left the Patel estate, Delbert also departed the meaningless gala, his face cold and expressionless. He drove through the night until he reached an old, standalone mansion tucked away on the city's outskirts.

The property lacked the grandeur of Howard Manor. Instead, it exuded a rustic, weathered quality—years of accumulated silence and oppression clinging to every corner like a heavy shroud.

Delbert pushed open the door and stepped inside. The living room was lit only by a single dim floor lamp, casting yellowish light that made the walnut furniture look even more aged and somber.

An elderly man sat upright on the main sofa in the parlor. Though his hair had turned white and deep wrinkles lined his face, his spine remained ramrod straight. In his hands, he absently rotated a strand of dark, aged sandalwood prayer beads.

He sat with his eyes closed, an aura of authority born from decades of weathering life's storms radiating from his still form.
"Grandfather."

Delbert stepped forward and gave a respectful nod.

The man he addressed as grandfather was named Walter Loomis. At the sound of his grandson's voice, he slowly opened his eyes.

Those eyes held no trace of elderly frailty—instead, they were sharp as a hawk's. His voice was hoarse with age, yet every word carried penetrating force.

"At the gala tonight—did you approach Emily?"

Delbert shook his head, then nodded, then shook it again.

"I tried. But she's a wary woman. I didn't get the chance to say much."

"No matter how cautious, she's still just a woman. Delbert, you're my most precious grandson. Don't disappoint me."

"I understand, Grandfather. But—"

Delbert's brow furrowed, a note of frustration creeping into his tone.

"We came back here to reclaim what belongs to us. Why do we have to skulk around in the shadows? Why involve some woman in this at all? Why not go straight after Charles? I'm every bit his equal."

Walter seemed to have anticipated this complaint. Rather than getting angry, he offered a few words of encouragement.

His grandson had never tasted failure growing up—everything had come easily, which made him rash and impatient.

That attitude might have been fine abroad. But here in Nordkvist, this was Howard family territory. That old bastard was still alive, and now there was his cunning grandson Charles to contend with.

They had to be careful. Cautious. Meticulous.

Before they could fully establish themselves in Nordkvist, exposure would be catastrophic.

"Delbert, it's been twenty years. Your parents couldn't reclaim what was ours—how do you think just the two of us can manage it now? The Howards are ruthless and devious. If your parents were still alive, they wouldn't want you wading into these treacherous waters either."

As Walter spoke, his gaze drifted to a family portrait hanging on the wall behind him.

Delbert instinctively followed his grandfather's line of sight. The photograph showed five people.

Two couples. One infant.

The infant was him.

Among the older couple, the man was Walter himself—just younger. Beside him stood a woman in an elaborately designed gown, her chin tilted upward in an expression of cold, aristocratic beauty.

That was Delbert's grandmother—Saskia Howard.

This stunning woman had died twenty years ago. Back then, Delbert hadn't yet taken the surname Loomis—he'd carried his grandmother's name. He'd been Delbert Howard.

He'd been too young at the time to form clear memories. His grandmother remained little more than a vague impression, and changing his surname had meant nothing to him.

But what truly caused him pain was the young couple in the photograph. The man had the same green eyes as Delbert. The woman leaned against his shoulder, her smile radiant.

His parents.

They'd died in a plane crash. A crash that had been engineered.

And the ones responsible were members of the Howard family.

His grandmother's own relatives. They'd seized her assets and systematically eliminated his entire family.

Now his family was dead or dying, while the Howards thrived—prosperous, harmonious. Even the youngest, Charles, had started his own family and would soon carry on the bloodline.

It was unbearably unjust.

Recalling that man's face from tonight, Delbert's frown deepened. Agitation surged through his chest.

He reached up and loosened his tie, then grabbed the cold coffee sitting on the table and drained it in one gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing as he forced down the frustration.

"I'm just... frustrated. This approach is too slow. Too complicated."

"Listen to me. The Howard family isn't as simple as you think."

A sharp gleam flashed in Walter's eyes. He'd dealt with the Howards extensively over the years.

They were exceptionally intelligent—and that intelligence was precisely what had allowed them to build their commercial empire.

If he wanted a piece of that empire, he had to proceed slowly. Methodically.

Hearing this, Delbert's green eyes churned with impatience and cruelty.

"I saw Charles tonight. There's nothing special about him. He looked like a fragile little lamb. His grandfather's already old—he handed the entire Howard legacy to some green kid. This is our best opportunity."

He wanted to lay out his plan, but before he could continue, Walter's eyebrows shot up.

"You and Charles met face-to-face? He saw you?"

"He did. We even spoke."

"Who gave you permission to act on your own? Do you have any idea how long I've been working toward this moment? Now you've exposed yourself and tipped them off!"

Walter shot to his feet with surprising vigor, abandoning his calculating composure entirely. He slapped the armrest of his chair in fury.

Delbert's expression remained unchanged. If anything, he let out a cold snort.

"So what if he saw me? He doesn't know who I am. Besides, I was the one who initiated conversation—and he couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge me properly. Arrogant bastard."