How the Ice King Became my Doting Billionaire Husband

Stuart stepped out of the school gates and drove straight back to Hetfield Homestead. The wind outside the car window helped clear his head a bit. It was time to have a talk with Norbert.

Lately, the atmosphere at the old mansion had been suffocating. Even Orson Brown, usually carefree, could sense that Norbert's health was declining. But he couldn't quite put his finger on the cause, leaving him unsure whether to inform Mrs. Hetfield. Orson had been in a funk these days, with Norbert out of spirits, and himself feeling down. Suddenly, he heard footsteps.

"Hey there, Mr. Hetfield," Orson greeted lazily.

Stuart, enveloped in gloom, ignored him and headed straight upstairs to the study. The usually sluggish Orson perked up a bit. Mr. Hetfield seemed unusually agitated. Worried that Stuart might confront Norbert with his fiery temper, especially given Norbert's frail health, Orson followed but decided to wait outside the study, not wanting to eavesdrop or peek.

Stuart entered the study and shut the door behind him. Norbert, holding a mug, sniffed at it and put it down, seemingly oblivious to Stuart's dark mood, and said with a smile, "Morwenna's got me on a tight leash, no more whiskey for me. Just getting a whiff is all I can do now."

Norbert had been a heavy drinker for decades but had not touched a drop since promising Morwenna he'd quit. He would often hold his mug, now filled with tea instead of whiskey, and just smell it without drinking.

you send that disgrace out there to embarrass

serious, "Stuart, there's no

facts. My father and

face went pale as if Stuart had touched on a deeply painful truth, and he began to

his voice cold, "If you don't want that disgrace to die, better

wronged

not long for this world. He

couldn't deny him that."

dead now, then,"

dying. Do you want me to die with this on my conscience?