As the butler deliberated on the best response to appease Asher, a man hurriedly approached from the side, clutching a smartphone. "Young Master, it's the Boss on the phone."

Asher's pupils shrank, his breath coming in strained gasps. He swallowed hard, his hand trembling as he picked up the incessantly vibrating phone. The second he pressed the answer button, Oliver's furious roar blasted clearly into everyone's ears. "You bloody fool! What have you done?"

"I, I, I just wanted to capture Vivienne back. Dad, I..."

A man in his thirties, Asher believed he hadn't felt this cloak of fear enveloping his heart since reaching adulthood, leaving him stammering, devoid of any spirit to fight back. Even guilt crept in. "Capture Vivienne, huh? Great, just great..." Oliver was panting heavily over the phone, and faintly, the soothing voice of a woman could be heard.

The sound of porcelain shattering clattered in his ears, and it was about five minutes later that Oliver, through gritted teeth and with venom in his voice, said, "Asher, have you lost your damn mind? A girl with no title, no status, and you're squabbling with her? You, get your ass back here now! Look at the mess you've made; how did I ever sire such a disappointment?"

Asher's heart skipped a beat. "Dad, what on earth happened? What did Vivienne do?"

"What did she do?" Oliver scoffed. "The Grimshaw family crypt has been desecrated, you tell me what happened? Asher, I'm telling you! You better pray your mother's urn can be found. Otherwise, forget about being the heir to this family!"

A chill ran through Asher.

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Where could he possibly search?

The sound of the white porcelain urn shattering seemed to echo once again in his ears.

In the midst of the settling dust, he remembered staring at the fragments scattered on the ground.

The satisfaction that had welled up inside him at that moment had vanished without a trace.

Thinking of the white ashes mixed with the dirt, a throbbing pain shot through him, unsure which part was his mother's remains.

viciously stomped on every patch of white. Even now,

could he search? Was he supposed to

vision darkening, his

then close, finally settling on

back from fear, "What's the use of blaming me? Vivienne is the thief, Dad! Instead of lecturing me, you should be leading a search at

were found, the chances of retrieving the stolen

shaking uncontrollably, "Dad, I was just

need you to teach me how to handle my

sharp crack

what are you doing? If you've got something to say, speak up. You're about to smash all the vases in the

woman's gentle voice was soothing to the

tremble, feeling that if he were in front of Oliver, the vase would surely be aimed

seriously doubt your mother had any brains left when she had you! How did she manage to give

of power, Oliver was no match for Jasper. He only had

family over a deceased relative. Yet the thought of the gaping

Vivienne!

little creature with ruthless

a blatant provocation

worse, he couldn't find any evidence

happened

refute. Or rather, he didn't dare

would only make things worse. Better to stay silent. Yet he blamed Vivienne for this entire debacle in his heart! Next time, he wouldn't let her

At noon.

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