Richest Mogul

Chapter 1830

Vivian arrived at a quiet part of town, far from the usual bustle, heading straight to meet Manfred. This time, he wasn't in the rundown storage shed or the shabby, isolated courtyard. Instead, he was in a newly furnished room, warm and well- organized.

Since there were others present besides Manfred, Vivian decided to remain silent, holding her belongings and standing quietly by the side.

Seated in the room were Zea and Randall, both with grim expressions. Zea, though well-kept, had a pale, weary complexion. She looked as if she hadn't slept well, or perhaps something was weighing heavily on her mind. The maids stood in silence, heads lowered, not daring to speak.

Manfred stood before her. His new clothes hung loosely on his frame, ill-fitting but still an improvement from when she first saw him. He had gained a little weight and no longer looked as gaunt.

"Manfred, was it you? Did you bring a female ghost to harm Cyril?" Randall's voice was sharp with accusation.

Zea's grip tightened on the armrest of her chair; her face contorted with anger as she pointed at Manfred. "Randall, it must be him! He's always been strange. When he was a child, he said he could see ghosts that we couldn't. As he grew older, he became even more sinister.

protect their younger siblings, but him-he only wishes for

twisted in rage at the thought of Cyril never becoming a real man. The idea repulsed her.

determined not to let Manfred get away

you suspect me, then go ahead

Are you trying to disgrace our family?" Randall slammed his fist on

If this situation became public, it would be a disgrace. He could never show his face in

spirits to harm people. Use the family rules on him, and let's see if

said our house is haunted, and those spirits must have been summoned by him. If it weren't for these ghosts, Cyril would never have gotten hurt. Cyril was our hope, and now he's been ruined by him!" Zea

for show in the past, but this time, her sorrow was genuine. She hadn't slept in days, exhausted and drained. Despite consulting numerous doctors, the prognosis remained the same. Cyril would never recover. He could never live

never live normally was no different from a palace servant. Worse still, Cyril had been crying, screaming that he