“How’s he doing?”

“Why don’t you just call and ask yourself?” Alessia shot Max a look of exasperation.

Max didn’t respond, retreating into his usual silence.

Both brothers were the same. Even yesterday, York kept glancing at his phone, terrified he’d miss a message from that certain someone.

But, as usual, that person stayed stubbornly silent–not a single message had come through.

Alessia, caught in the middle of it all, didn’t realize she was just as bad.

“He’s eating, drinking, even joking around. Sure, he’s not a hundred percent, but for now, rest is all he can do.” Alessia finally gave in and explained York’s situation.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, until the car rolled to a stop outside Quincy Manor. The gates were wide open, so they skipped any pretense of courtesy and walked straight in.

Every morning, the old man liked to sit in the backyard with a cup of tea, listening to classical music. Following the haunting notes, they found Hamilton reclining comfortably, humming along, looking completely at ease–without a hint of remorse or guilt.

“Mr. Tate, Miss Morton, dropping by unannounced–don’t you think that’s a bit improper?” The butler, having been alerted by the security cameras, hurried over to block their path.

“Well, who would’ve guessed the Quincy family cared about manners?” Alessia feigned surprise.

The butler was at a loss for words, clearly aware of what had happened the day before.

welcomes guests,” he said

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11:02

Chapter 410

No matter your status, you’re still the younger generation. Proper etiquette

you to pass this on to Hamilton–as an elder, he should appreciate proper procedure. And perhaps remind him to make an appointment next time. The younger generation’s been rather busy lately; I’m afraid he’ll have to wait a while.” Alessia’s words were sharp, but Max only smirked, his

butler a

tap on the back of

instantly, arching a brow as she

with which the two left made the butler uneasy. Things were never that simple with

called out, still sprawled on his chaise

gone,” the

thought they’d have more backbone.” Hamilton’s voice brimmed

might have been outmaneuvered at the school, but in his own home? He’d been running the Quincy family long before those two brats were even born. Did they really think they could compete with him?

of the folder in

“What’s that?”

remember the file. He handed it over. “Mr. Tate

“What could a wet–behind–the–ears kid possibly have

a thought, but

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