Fred stared at Stewart, thinking to himself, Stewart was only seven back then- what could a seven-year-old possibly understand?


    But Fred was wrong.


    Not only did Stewart understand, he remembered everything-down to thest detail.


    Stewart fixed cold eyes on Fred and spoke, his voice icy: "A week before your supposed death in that ne crash, someone doctored the ounts at Wentworth Group. Fred, you were the one who quietly transferred thepany''s liquid assets to a Swiss bank ount."


    "That''s a lie!" Fred''s pupils shrank. He snapped, "Stewart, you''ll say anything to keep me from going back to the Wentworth Group, won''t you? But do you really think everyone''s that gullible? Do you think they''ll just take your word for it? The turmoil at Wentworth Group was all because of Fiona and her brother''s scheming! If you want to me someone, me that vicious woman, Fiona!"


    "If you don''t want anyone to find out, don''t do it in the first ce." Stewart''s re was frigid, his voice filled with disgust. "You gutted the Wentworth Group, then faked your death and spent those years in Switzend with Malvina, living like a king. Did you ever stop to think the money would run out someday?"


    "And when it did, and Malvina fell ill, you came crawling back to me for help. She was your mistress, Fred. Why should I bail you out?" Stewart sneered. “Do you take me for some kind of fool?"


    Fred''s face darkened to the color of thunder. "Just how much have you found out?!"


    "I know everything you did." Stewart smiled coolly. "Would you like me to list each and every crime, one by one?"


    Fred red at Stewart, his gaze sharp and venomous.


    Stewart went on, "Why did my grandfather die of a sudden heart attack when I was five? Are you sure it was Fiona who set you up? Did Malvina really die of cancer? And now you''vee back to seize the Wentworth Group are you really doing it for Ferdinand?"


    "Enough!" Fred roared, lunging across the space and grabbing Stewart by the cor in a fit of rage.


    "Shut your mouth! The Wentworth Group was always mine! Stewart, you have no right to call yourself my son. My only son is Ferdinand. You''re nothing but a pawn -Fiona''s tool for chasing after wealth and status! You don''t belong here, and you don''t deserve a single share of the Wentworth Group!"


    Stewart gazed back at Fred with a nk expression.


    In that moment, Fred looked less like a man and more like a monster-twisted by his own hysteria.


    No one could fail to love their own child, except a monster.


    Stewart''s lips curled into a cold, contemptuous smile. His heart,


    numb for so long, had long sine


    stopped hoping for anything from this creature.


    xet


    He raised his hand and gripped Fred''s wrist, squeezing hard. Fred howled in pain, his hands falling


    y from Stewart''s cont


    Stewart shoved him aside, straightened his clothes, and looked at Fred as if he were nothing but trash.


    "Fred, if you want the Wentworth Group, try taking it by your own hand."


    With that, Stewart picked a pen from


    ???


    the holder


    into the


    on the desk and slipped it pocket of his suit. That was


    all he took; the rest he left behind.


    He walked past Fred and strode out of the CEO''s office, leaving Fred standing


    alone, his face twisted with fury.


    ...


    In the vast boardroom, the air was thick with murmurs and spection.


    The doors swung open and Stewart walked in.


    Instantly, the room fell silent.


    Stewart''s cold gaze swept over the assembled faces. There was no sign of Carl or Briony nor of Ferdinand.


    His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, then he turned away, heading straight for the seat at the head of the table.


    Every eye in the room followed him.


    As soon as he sat, Stewart pulled out his phone and dialed Carl''s number.


    No answer.


    His brow furrowed. He dialed another number. "Carl''s not picking up. Go find him.”