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 freely like it was

his head high if word got

and shaking his head. "Then did you read the part on why

could hear Glen's

in disappointment. "Shouldn't you be standing up to explain the facts? I remember

clenching his cheeks, pain swelling in

just Les—he was just Glen's bastard and had a troubled

two deaths, and the other was Neil Turnbull,

anything, he had come ready to apologize

if they are dead? No one will miss

strode into the banquet hall in her white gown, her long black hair flowing beneath her tiara and her devilish figure

all grown up

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