Naturally, the other Turnbulls were less than friendly toward Frank.

Other than Vicky, they all had looks of a constipated person whenever they glanced Frank's way.

He was a real piece of work, but they could neither snap at him nor chase him away.

Hurt him? They were still counting on him to cure George!

All they could do was to defame him in private, even blaming him for George's condition when he contracted it six months ago.

Frank did not care at all—it was the last day of treatment for George and the day of the Turnbulls' annual dinner.

Starting from the morning, luxurious cars were driving into the Turnbull estate, with men and women striding in as they attended the prestigious banquet.

They were all family or regional executives, all of them embodying the might of the Turnbulls as one of the Four Families of Morhen.

that not the entire

center of the dazzling banquet hall, countless servants were hurrying around busily, lining the tables with

corner, watching as hundreds

the backbone to the family empire—and

you still doing here?" Yonca Wells asked, striding over to Frank when she happened to finish a conversation and

appeared disgruntled, Frank chuckled in her face, unmoved. "What, do

"Hmph."

our family's annual dinner, and

so can't you go back to your pig sty

insults and pointed at Titus who was chatting with Glen in the

refined mannerisms, and she quickly turned back to shoot Frank a look of disdain. "He'll be family eventually. Who do you think you are compared to him? Don't you understand your

head and replied quietly. "All I know is that I've beaten

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