His Destructive, Toxic Love (Jasper and Eliza)

Chapter 476

"Well, look who finally remembered his old man," Tristan greeted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Seems like life's been treating you well," Casper retorted, standing at the doorway without moving a muscle. "I assume Dillon already filled you in. Now, I want to hear your side."

"Dillon claimed I sent someone to kill you?" Tristan spat, his eyes flashing with indignation. "That's pure nonsense. He's lost his marbles, and it sounds like you have too."

"Wasn't you?" Casper's brow furrowed.

"Casper, you're my son. Why would I want to kill you? Even if..." Tristan's face clouded with a mix of hurt and frustration, "...even if I did favor Shaun more, I'd never go that far. Do you really see me as that heartless?" Tristan's expression seemed genuine enough.

But then again, who else would pin such a grave accusation on him out of the blue?

"I'll get to the bottom of this with Zach," Casper said, his tone resolute.

"Be my guest," Tristan replied, taking a measured sip from his glass. "Sure, Shaun's got ambition, but he's locked up. How'd he have the means or the pull to hire a hitman? For free, no less?"

Tristan's logic seemed airtight.

dark eyes stayed unreadable. "Alright, since you're so sure of yourself, answer me this: When I was presumed dead after falling off that cliff, why did you help Zach take over Welton International? Was it because I was gone, or did you

Tristan's voice trailed off, the weight of the accusation hanging

meant to be passed down to a man, not a woman, and certainly not to a kid barely out of diapers.

have created this mess for

lost it," Casper said, his expression hardening. "In that case, I'll have someone buy out your shares. It's time for you to step down from

slammed his glass down, his

don't get a say," Casper's voice was icy, leaving

full glass of wine and downing it. Casper turned to

"Yes, Mr. Casper."

like a shadow of his former self. His hair was a tangled mess, his beard overgrown, and his clothes stained and tattered. He looked more like a man in his fate forties

hit on me in Oak

been in jail. How

fabricate stories."

power, you