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.

beloved son and would strut on his own turf

hold his head high if word got

laughing out loud and shaking his head. "Then did you read the part on why I killed him? You're a

they could hear Glen's teeth

disappointment. "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 swelling in his

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

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

to explain that? If anything, he had come ready

lowlifes? So what if they are

white gown, her long black

grown up

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