Chapter 409

The study loomed large and shadowy, its towering bookshelves swallowing what little light seeped through the heavy drapes.

Ethan flicked the switch, the sudden brightness revealing Alfred Blackwood perched stiffly on the leather sofa. The sight made him jerk backward, his pulse spiking.

"Grandfather, what are you doing lurking in the dark at this hour?"

Alfred's knuckles whitened around his cane. "Maybe I want to give myself a heart attack. At least then I wouldn't have to watch my grandchildren bumble through life like headless chickens."

"Not this again—"

Rubbing his temples, Ethan schooled his expression and crouched before the old man. "Did something upset you today?"

"Nothing beyond the usual disappointment." Alfred's milky eyes glazed with bitterness. "These useless old eyes can't even recognize faces anymore. Pathetic, for a man who once led battalions."

The grandfather clock ticked loudly as memories of Alpine Springs' liberation flashed through Alfred's mind—how sharply he'd once seen the world, how firmly he'd commanded respect. Now? A trembling relic.

With surprising dexterity, Alfred produced his smartphone. "My vision's shot. Nathaniel, tell me—who's this woman in the video? Her form is impeccable."

Ethan leaned in.

Vivian Lockhart's viral sparring footage filled the screen.

His jaw tightened. "Some internet celebrity, probably. All staged for clicks. You know how these influencers are." He reached for the phone. "Let's find you something better to—"

"Enough!" Alfred smacked his cane against Ethan's shin. "Open your damn eyes, boy. That's Isabella! When were you planning to tell me she's back in Newport?"

Ethan feigned confusion. "Oh! You're right—that's Cassandra Whitmore. Nathan Prescott's been pushing her as the new face of—"

"Liar!" Alfred's shout rattled the crystal decanters. "I watched her livestream! Donated fifty thousand myself! Unlike some idiot who blew four million trying to be subtle."

Ethan's ears burned. Since when did his tech-illiterate grandfather stalk social media?

"I want her here for dinner." Alfred's gnarled fingers tightened on the cane. "Tomorrow."

Ethan scoffed. "Good luck. She's booked solid these days. Maybe if you ask nicely..."

Let the old man humiliate himself for once. After the way Vivian had severed ties, Ethan refused to grovel.

"Fine." Alfred's rheumy eyes gleamed with sudden cunning. "I'll handle it myself."

The grandfather clock struck midnight as schemes began unfolding behind those aged irises.