<b>Chapter 552 </b>
<b>Byron’s </b><b>eyes </b><b>sparkled </b><b>with </b><b>frantic </b>hope as he spotted <b>Matthew </b>across <b>the </b><b>long </b><b>table</b>. It was as <b>though </b><b>he </b>was <b>a </b>man about <b>to </b>be shattered on <b>the </b>rocks below<b>, </b>who had <b>just </b>managed <b>to </b><b>grasp </b><b>a </b><b>lifeline</b><b>. </b>
Their <b>reunion</b><b>, </b>however, was cut short <b>by </b>the <b>watchful </b>eyes of <b>the </b>police <b>officer </b>behind <b>Byron</b><b>, </b><b>who </b><b>hurried over </b><b>and </b><b>pressed </b><b>firmly </b>on his shoulder<b>, </b><b>keeping </b><b>him in </b><b>ce </b><b>for </b><b>fear </b><b>of </b><b>any </b>sudden <b>outbursts</b>.
Matthew, seated <b>calmly </b>on the <b>opposite </b><b>side</b>, leaned <b>back </b>with a wary gaze and <b>a </b>downturned mouth<b>, </b><b>his </b><b>disdain </b>for his incarcerated <b>younger </b>brother <b>evident </b>in every gesture.
In the Chambers family<b>, affection </b>was the least of Matthew’s <b>concerns</b>.
He <b>treated </b><b>Byron </b>like a <b>ymate </b><b>in </b>their youth. As they grew older, Matthew saw Byron <b>as </b>nothing more <b>than </b><b>a </b>tool to be used. To <b>prevent </b><b>any </b><b>challenge </b><b>to </b>his power, Matthew had cleaned up Byron’s messes time and again, indulging his reckless behavior <b>to </b>the point <b>of </b><b>ruin</b>. His goal was to break Byron<b>, </b><b>to </b>turn him into <b>a </b><b>faithful </b>follower<b>, </b>utterly <b>dependent</b>.
Unfortunately, Byron was too much of <b>a </b>fool.
The more Matthew thought about it, the more he despised Byron. He refused to ept any me for Byron bing a murderer. Everything he had done was to save Byron, <b>so </b>it only made sense that Byron should bear the consequences.
“Matthew, how <b>could </b><b>I </b>be
murderer? I never killed anyone<b>.” </b>
Byron’s cracked l*ps trembled as he spoke incoherently, “I’ve been framed. They got it wrong. I’m innocent. Who did I kill? How <be </b><b>I </b><b>don’t </b>know<b>?</b><b>” </b>
“Byron, calm down <b>and </b>listen to me.”
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Matthew’s voice was slow and measured as if speaking to child, “The evidence is irrefutable. Your aplice was caught red–handed<b>, </b>and he has confessed everything to the police, including your orders to murder and silence the witnesses.”
“Murder? Silence witnesses<b>?</b><b>” </b>
Byron froze, his face turning ashen, “When did I ever tell him to kill for me? I never gave such orders.<b>” </b>
Matthew simply shook his head in feigned helplessness, “Byron, you’ve always listened to me. Why start doubting now at such a critical moment? I’ve told you countless times, and I’ll do everything in my power to get you out. But you’ve been so impetuous, and now look at the mess we’re in. Even Dad can’t help you now.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t kill anyone. How many times do I have to tell you?”
Byroned his hands on the table, spraying saliva, “Call Dad right now. I need to talk to him. I’m his favorite son. He won’t
abandon me.”
“Byron, to be honest<b>, </b>the words I’m saying now are Dad’s words too.”
Matthew’s impatience was evident, his brow furrowed, “I’ve done my duty, but you keep making these blunders, crossing Evadne and Thaddeus. Not even God Himself could save you now.”
“What do you mean? You’re giving up on me?”
“I’ll hire the bestwyers to try and reduce your sentence. I’ll also make sure you’re well taken care of in prison. That’s the best I can do for you as your brother.”
With that, Matthew signaled to Quincy, who produced a document andid it before Byron.
Quincy was cautious, deliberately leaving out a pen. He feared that Byron, in a fit of rage, might use it as a weapon against his
master.
Byron nced down.
The words “Share Transfer Agreement” hit him like a gleaming dagger straight through the heart.
“Matthew, you’re robbing me.”
Byron roared with rage, “I’m not dead yet, and I might still get out of here. And you’re already eager to swallow my shares? You’ve gone too far. Even if I die, Dad is the first in line to inherit my shares, not you.”
“Byron, can’t you see the writing on the wall? If Dad was willing to save you, would he have waited until now? You’ve disappointed himpletely, and he won’t bother with you anymore.”
Matthew spoke as though he cared deeply, “Money, shares, they’re all material things. You can’t take them with you when you’re
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gone, and <b>clinging </b>to <b>them </b>now <b>is </b><b>pointless</b>. Once <b>your </b><b>sentence </b>is <b>confirmed</b><b>, </b><b>you’ll </b><b>likely </b><b>get </b>life <b>imprisonment</b>. <b>Even </b>if I <b>get </b>your <b>sentence </b><b>reduced</b><b>, </b>your assets <b>will </b><b>be </b><b>seized</b>. <b>Your </b>shares <b>in the Chambers </b>Group will <b>be </b><b>forcefully </b><b>transferred</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>
“They <b>won’t </b><b>go </b><b>to you</b>.”
Byron <b>was </b><b>filled </b>with venomous rage<b>, </b>wishing he <b>could hurl </b>his <b>prosthetic </b><b>limb </b><b>at </b><b>Matthew</b>, “<b>I </b><b>see </b><b>it </b>now. You didn’t <be </b>here <b>to </b><b>save </b>me<b>, </b>and you <b>came </b><b>to </b>mock me and snatch <b>my </b><b>shares</b>. I <b>won’t </b>give <b>them </b><b>to </b><b>you</b><b>, </b>not <b>even </b><b>in </b><b>death</b>. <b>Get </b><b>out</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>
<b>Matthew dropped </b>the act<b>, </b><b>sneered</b><b>, </b>and stood up<b>, </b>“<b>Byron</b><b>, </b><b>think </b><b>it </b>over<b>. </b><b>If </b>you don’t <b>agree </b><b>to </b><b>transfer </b>the <b>shares </b><b>to </b><b>me, </b><b>forget </b><b>about </b><b>a </b>reduced sentence. And <b>your </b><b>days </b>in prison <b>will be </b><b>far </b><b>from </b>easy.”
Byron tore <b>the </b>agreement <b>to </b>shreds <b>and </b>threw it <b>at </b><b>him</b><b>, </b>“<b>Don’t </b><b>you </b><b>threaten </b>me. Dad will <b>take </b><b>care </b><b>of </b><b>me </b><b>without </b><b>you</b>. Get <b>out</b>.” Word <b>of </b>Matthew’s <b>visit </b>to Byron <b>at </b><b>the </b>detention center spread rapidly <b>to </b><b>Avery</b>.
“Mr. Chambers, <b>I </b>saw Matthew when he came out. He was cursing, looking <b>pretty </b>upset. It <b>seems </b>their negotiations <b>in </b><b>prison </b><b>didn’t </b>go <b>well</b><b>,” </b>Harvey reported<b>, </b>massaging Avery’s shoulders with a barely concealed smile.
<b>Avery </b><b>sipped </b>his wine<b>, </b>and contentedly mused, “Byron has always worshipped Matthew like a god. <b>Now that </b>he must be utterly disillusioned <b>with </b>Matthew<b>.</b><b>” </b>
“That’s <b>for </b>sure.<b>” </b>
“When Matthew’s yed <b>his </b>part as <b>the </b>fall guy, we’ll pick the right moment to <b>offer </b><b>Byron </b><b>a </b>final warmth<b>.” </b>
Before Avery could finish, the smartphone on the coffee table rang.
Harvey hurried over<b>, </b>picked it up, and after seeing the name on the screen, handed it to Avery with <b>a </b>concerned <b>look</b>. “<b>Mr. </b>Chambers, it’s Eden.”
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