The banquet hall erupted in an uproar at Glen's outburst.

"What?! Someone killed Les Turnbull?"

"No way, he's dead? And that brat killed him?!"

"That's the son of the family head we're talking about... Who the hell let him in here?"

Frank could feel everyone's eyes on him.

He glanced coldly at Walter in turn and said calmly, "Yes, I killed him."

"How dare you!" Glen bellowed, clearly unable to retrain his own wrath.

man had killed his beloved son and would strut on his own turf

his head

shaking his head. "Then did you read the part

they could hear

"Shouldn't you be standing up to explain the facts? I remember how you bravely volunteered that you'd speak with your own brother personally. Why

Walter was left clenching his cheeks, pain

just Les—he was just Glen's bastard and had a troubled reputation in the family. His death was at best

the problem was that there were two deaths, and the other was

was Walter supposed to explain that? If anything, he had come ready

they

in her white gown, her long black hair flowing beneath her tiara and her devilish

grown up

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