Chapter 219

The door was suddenly shoved open, slamming hard against the wall and breaking the warm, cozy scene inside the room.

Olivia instinctively pulled the two children close to protect them, then turned to look behind her.

Remy stood against the wall, breathing heavily. "Ms. Smith, something's wrong."

Before she could finish her stuttering words, a loud crash came from downstairs.

Then came Cruz's heart-wrenching scream, followed by Fallon's panicked shouts nearby. "What are you doing? Let go of Cruz."

Olivia realized what was happening. She told the two children to stay upstairs and not come down, then rushed out of the room herself, taking the stairs two at a time as she headed for the first floor.

Michael was slouched on the sofa, his long arm casually draped over the backrest, his slender fingers tapping carelessly on the leather.

In front of him, the glass table had a basin-sized hole shattered right in the center, with shards scattered across the carpet, the tiles, and some even landing on the sofa backrest, reflecting dazzling light in the sunshine.

"Michael." Fallon's hands were pinned behind her back as she twisted her body and shouted, "You'll die a horrible death for treating Cruz like this."

The moment she finished speaking, the person beside her raised a hand and slapped her, making her head snap to the side, a streak of bright red instantly appearing at the corner of her mouth.

Michael didn't even look at her, saying flatly, "Go on, I'm listening."

Fallon's lips moved twice. Just as she was about to speak, the person beside her immediately raised their hand again, the raised palm forcing her to swallow the words that had reached her lips.

"Michael." Cruz rushed out from Olivia's blind spot and slid to his knees in front of Michael.

The glass shards on the floor cut into his kneecaps, blood sticking to the glass, bright red.

Cruz knelt on the ground, shakily raising his hand to grasp Michael's leg. "Please let Mom go. If you're unhappy about something, take it out on me."

Before he could finish, Byron stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him backward.

Michael raised his hand, and Byron immediately stopped, tossing Cruz aside like garbage.

He shakily lifted his head, his eyes full of pleading.

Michael acted as if he hadn't seen it, looking down at him from above, saying coldly, "I'm asking you, where did the photos come from?"

Cruz's brow furrowed slightly. After a second of confusion, he instinctively looked toward Fallon.

Before he could speak, she started shouting like she'd gone crazy, "Michael, what photos? What are you talking about? Cruz doesn't know anything."

Michael's hawk-like eyes stayed fixed on Cruz as he raised his hand to point at Fallon, his voice eerily cold like a ghost. "You don't even know what photos they are, so how do you know whether he knows about them or not?"

"I..."

Fallon was about to speak when Michael crooked his finger.

The person beside her immediately grabbed the back of her neck and yanked her head back by her hair.

Fallon's head snapped back, her hands flailing behind her head as she screamed from being pulled.

Cruz was so desperate he couldn't even stand up. He propped himself up with both hands and crawled forward.

He'd only crawled a few feet when Byron hooked his ankle and dragged him back.

Fallon's exposed skin was cut by the glass shards all over the floor, leaving bloody streaks, a terrible sight.

"Cruz." Michael's voice was icy, "I'm asking you one more time, where did the photos come from?"

"Michael." Cruz was in unbearable pain, his voice trembling, "It's all my fault. I was confused for a moment. Mom has nothing to do with it. Please let Mom go. Whatever it is, take it out on me."

Michael's lips curved slightly, as if smiling, but his eyes held a cold chill. "You really are a devoted son."

He glanced at Byron, then sank deeper into the sofa and said nothing more.

Byron grabbed Cruz's feet and was about to drag him backward.

"Stop." That's when Olivia rushed into the living room.

She pushed Byron aside and strode to the sofa. "Michael, what are you doing?"

Michael lifted his eyelids to look at her. "Oli, go upstairs. This has nothing to do with you."

"I'm asking you, what are you doing?" Olivia raised her voice.

But Michael showed no intention of answering her. He raised his hand and said to the woman in black standing behind Byron. "Take Ms. Smith upstairs."

Seeing that he refused to answer her question, how could Olivia leave?

She shook off the woman's reaching hand, stepped forward, and grabbed Michael's wrist. Her whole body leaned down, one hand bracing on the armrest behind him as she said in a low voice. "Michael, do you even know what you're doing?"

"This is the Johnson family. One of them is your own brother, the other is your mother."

What time was it now?

Who knew how many eyes were watching Michael from outside.

Even when Michael behaved himself, they wanted to use a magnifying glass to find his mistakes.

Not to mention, he dared to attack his nominal brother and biological mother right here in the Johnson family home. If even a hint of this news got out, the consequences would be unthinkable.

Olivia stared at him, trying to see the answer in Michael's eyes.

But his eyes, calm as an ancient well, showed no ripples. He just looked up at her, his voice so gentle it was as if he hadn't heard what she said at all, "Be good, Oli, go back."

"Michael." Olivia was frantic, raising her voice to shout, "What exactly do you want to do? Won't you stop until you personally push the Johnson family into the abyss?"

Michael's lips twitched. His tongue pushed against his right cheek as he slowly lifted his eyelids to look at Olivia. "The Johnson family? Oli, I never knew you cared so much about the Johnson family."

Olivia froze, confusion in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

She didn't care about the Johnson family. She cared about Michael.

Even knowing he was openly meeting those women at the Johnson Group.

Even knowing he spent a fortune buying diamonds for another woman.

Even having made up her mind to leave him.

Still, Olivia couldn't help but care about Michael.

Care about his reputation, care about the things he cared about.

Naturally, that meant caring about the Johnson family that he cared about.

But Olivia felt that what he meant by caring about the Johnson family wasn't the same as what she meant.

"Not wanting to be a mistress, not having figured out our relationship yet—it was all lies to fool me."

Michael gazed at Olivia, the smile at the corner of his lips eerily cold. "Actually, you're just afraid. Afraid my position is unstable, afraid I'll be kicked out by the Johnson family shareholders, right?"

Olivia's hand was shaking, her fingertips trembling badly.

She slowly straightened up, looking down at Michael.

Clearly she was the one standing while he sat.

But when Michael's cold, blade-like gaze pierced through, his presence was overwhelming, as if he were the one standing.

"Michael, you bastard." Olivia gritted her teeth, each word forced out from between them.

A photo slapped down on the table.

Michael slowly stood up, his icy gaze following Olivia's eyes closely. "I'm a bastard? Then how do you explain this?"