Chapter 272: What Are You?

Chapter 272: What Are You?

(Daniel POV)

Robinson had just taken a step forward when Thomas's cane slammed hard against the floor with a dull thud.

"Wait."

He took half a step forward, chin lifted toward Sophia, carrying that air of authority from decades of doing business in Midland.

"Mr. Brooks, you're way out of line here. The Cooper family has been rooted in Midland for fifty years. When someone holds a celebration, we show up to congratulate them. Since when do we need an invitation? That's the rule, and that's reputation. Your Brooks family just came back to Midland a few years ago? Don't even understand this basic courtesy?"

The hallway went quiet for a moment. Noah didn't move, didn't change his expression.

He just stood there, looking at Thomas like he was looking at someone who'd said the wrong thing.

"Thomas, are you done?"

"I'm not done yet. Jonathan came to apologize, not to cause trouble. You won't even give him a chance to apologize—what's that about? Are you afraid we Coopers will say a few words to Sophia?"

Jonathan stood nearby, playing along with a wounded expression, his whole body hunched over, voice kept low.

"Mr. Brooks, I really just wanted to apologize to Ms. Parker in person. What happened before—I was wrong, I admit it. But you can't say I came here to scheme against her just because of that. It's not fair to me."

His eyes even reddened a bit, like he'd been terribly wronged in front of everyone.

"I know Mr. Brooks is very protective of Ms. Parker, I understand that. But in front of all these people, saying I came with ulterior motives—well then, Mr. Brooks, do you have proof?"

He lifted his head, looking straight at Noah. That expression was perfectly performed—aggrieved, sincere, innocent. If you didn't know him, anyone would believe it.

Noah looked at him, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. Not a smile—more like a reaction after seeing through a trick.

"Proof?"

He took a step forward, hands in his pockets, voice not loud but clear throughout the entire hallway.

"Jonathan, you came here today with a gift box, chose to arrive right in the middle of the recognition banquet, came through the side door, made enough noise for half the hall to hear."

He paused.

"If you really came to apologize, you'd have come this morning. You'd have given me a heads-up. You'd have quietly left the gift and gone without disturbing anyone. But you didn't. You chose this time, this place, to stand here and let all the guests see you bowing your head in apology. And then what? Tomorrow the whole city talks about how sincere the Cooper family is, how unreasonable the Brooks family is. That's what you're betting on, right?"

The layer of grievance on Jonathan's face cracked. His lips moved but no sound came out.

Thomas's expression darkened, gripping his cane tighter.

"Noah, you're slandering my son!"

"Slander?" Noah turned to him, his gaze so calm it didn't seem like an argument.

"Thomas, your son—the one you raised—bribed media to stake out the hospital and photograph my sister, paid trolls to spread lies about her online. You think I'm slandering your mistress's bastard son?"

Footsteps came from down the hallway. Several guests stood behind the half-open side door, peering out through the gap.

Thomas's face turned ugly as his mouth opened and closed, wanting to argue back, but Noah's words hit every mark, blocking any response.

Jonathan bit his teeth, voice rising half a pitch.

"Mr. Brooks! Those things you mentioned have nothing to do with me! Someone's operating behind the scenes, framing me!"

He turned to me.

"Daniel's always had it out for me—he has every ability to forge these things to set me up!"

"Enough."

I stepped out from the shadows, moving forward. No expression on my face, eyes cold as stone.

"Jack."

Jack came over from behind, holding a tablet with the screen already lit up.

I took it, flipped to the first page, and turned the screen toward Jonathan.

"Come on, let's see if this is a frame-up."

The screen showed a screenshot of a chat conversation. The sender's avatar and name were crystal clear—Jonathan's private account. The content was his conversation with a PR company manager, discussing how to get Sophia's design draft originals from the Mitchell Group to file a "plagiarism complaint" and sabotage the Mitchell Group's new project.

Jonathan's face went deathly pale.

I flipped to the next page. Transfer records. Three payments to three different social media accounts, amounts ranging from twenty to fifty thousand dollars. The memo lines read "article fees," "video placement."

Next page. Communication records with Evelyn. Though the main chat had been deleted with disappearing messages, a confirmation message Evelyn sent Jonathan from a backup account before her arrest was saved perfectly intact. The content: [Got the information, what's the next move?]

Jonathan's reply: [Spread it out, the more people see it the better.]

The hallway went completely silent. Behind the side door, several guests' eyes widened. Someone whispered something to the person next to them, who tugged their sleeve and they shut up.

Jonathan stared at the tablet, lips starting to tremble.

He suddenly lifted his head, voice practically squeezed from his throat.

"This is fake! You forged it!"

He stepped back, pointing at my face.

"You've always wanted to kick me out of the Cooper family! You play the good guy in front of Grandpa, but behind the scenes you pull this stuff to destroy me! These chat records are fake! The transfer records are fake too! Dad—"

He turned to Thomas.

"Dad, you can't believe him! He just wants to—"

"BANG."

A heavy thud.

Grandpa's cane struck the stone floor of the hallway, the sound traveling up from the ground, making even the walls tremble. The entire hallway went dead silent.

Grandpa stood in the middle of the crowd, body leaning slightly forward, cane planted on the ground, gaze sweeping from Jonathan to Thomas, finally landing on Layla's face. He didn't speak. But what was in those eyes carried more weight than words.

Jonathan's mouth hung open, the rest of his words stuck in his throat, unable to come out.

Grandpa stared at Thomas, voice not heavy but like it was pressed out from somewhere deep.

"Thomas. You and your mistress—get out of the Cooper family today."

He moved his cane forward half a step, his whole weight pressing on it.

"And this bastard son of yours?"

His gaze shifted to Jonathan. Jonathan's face had completely lost all color.

"You just said who's framing you?"

A voice came from the direction of the side door.

Everyone turned.

Sophia stood in the doorway. Her gaze swept over everyone in the hallway, finally landing on Jonathan's face.