?Chapter 1626:


    Rhys broke the silence.


    “Lee, have you thought of something new?”


    Initially, their n had been to assess Davenport’s condition and potentially eliminate him to divert Errol’s suspicions from themselves.


    “Yes, he’s not as foolish as we feared. He might still prove useful.”


    Harlee nodded, her tone matter-of-fact.


    “I believe he could be an effective tool against N.”


    A flicker of intrigue passed through Rhys’ eyes before his expression settled back into its usual calm.


    “Alright, follow your ideas,” he replied softly.


    Davenport, who hadn’t had water or food all night in a show of resilience, now slightly regretted not conserving his strength.


    “Mr. Green, what brings you here? Are you here to save me? And thisdy, she must be your wife, right? Hello, Mrs. Green.”


    His voice was hoarse and grating, akin to the sound of sawing wood. At that moment, Davenport seemed like a castaway who had spotted a rescue ship after drifting at sea, his eyes brimming with tears of relief.


    “Let’s renegotiate a deal,” Harlee said, her voice devoid of warmth as she nced at him coldly.


    Davenport’s mouth fell open slightly, his expression one of confusion as he struggled to grasp the meaning of her words.


    Harlee’s gaze grew even icier, her dark eyes reflecting no warmth as she contemted the viability of her new n.


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    “I’ll give you only one chance,” she stated, her gaze lowering as she leaned against Rhys’ shoulder and closed her eyes, signaling the end of the discussion.


    Jolted back to reality, Davenport nodded eagerly without a moment’s hesitation.


    “Absolutely! Tell me what you need me to do. I’ll do whatever it takes!”


    Previously, it had been Rhys who negotiated with Davenport, but the deference he showed to Harlee made it clear that his fate now rested entirely in her hands.


    At this point, Davenport’s only desire was to survive. Survival meant a chance to reim his position as head of the family—a chance he was not willing to cede to anyone.


    Davenport believed that if N assumed control after their grandfather’s death, it would spell doom for them all. This grim outlook on N had crystallized during his confinement—a direct result, he surmised, of her machinations to undermine him and paint him in such a dire light.


    To Davenport, N was nothing but a snake lurking in the grass, waiting for her moment to strike.


    “There’s no need.”


    Harlee’s voice grew even colder as she gazed at Davenport.


    “Just stay here. Soon, someone will inform Errol about N’s scheme against you. When Errol confronts you, simply repeat what I tell you word for word.”


    Harlee wasn’t certain if N was truly behind it, but she was prepared to tarnish N’s reputation regardless.


    “What exactly should I say?” Davenport asked, a trace of eagerness in his voice. He was ready to seize any chance to undermine N.


    “I’m clueless about any schemes. It’s unimaginable that N would do such cruelty. Please look into this more thoroughly, grandpa. We’re family. Why would N set me up? Over the head of the family position? I can’t believe that. She’s not that malevolent. I still want to trust her.”


    Harlee delivered these lines without emotion, her eyes narrowing briefly before returning to normal.


    Davenport was taken aback. Her prepared response suggested she had precisely predicted his grandfather’s likely reactions. Could she really be so insightful? She also mentioned she would find evidence of N’s scheme. If finding such evidence was so straightforward, he wouldn’t be clueless about his current situation. Moreover, he couldn’t even confirm the models’ deaths weren’t linked to him. What made her so confident she could uncover anything definitive?


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