Frank''s eyes were filled with exhaustion and helplessness.


    At her age, Mrs. Thompson Sr. had long made her peace with life and death. Her only remaining attachments were to her precious grandchildren, Eden and Vanessa.


    She was even willing to risk her own life to pave the way for them.


    As Mrs. Thompson Sr.''s own son, Frank couldn''t just stand by and watch his mother die, so he was forced topromise.


    This time, his mother hadid out two conditions: first, Eden must marry Ynda. Second, the Thompson Group''s transportationpany was to be handed over to Eden.


    Emma was so furious she smashed nearly everything she could in the living room.


    Priceless paintings, antique vases, and expensive ornamentsy shattered across the floor, but not a single servant dared to go near the mess to clean it up.


    "That bitch, Ynda, has been involved with both of your sons! This is a massive scandal, and you still agreed to let Eden marry her?"


    "Frank, you may have no shame, but I still have my dignity!"


    "Your bastard son is cozying up to the Walker family, and for what? Isn''t it just to fight Bet for the inheritance? It''s as in as the nose on your face!"


    "You want me to be understanding? Fine, I''ll be understanding. Let''s get a divorce. You can go live with your precious mother, your son, and your daughter."


    Emma, who was usually elegant and poised, was hysterical with rage at Frank.


    "Emma, you know that no one can ever challenge Bet''s position as the heir. We built this fortune together, and no one is qualified to inherit it but our son."


    Faced with his hysterical wife, Frank could only offer a weak exnation.


    "Mom is so old, how many years does she have left? I just don''t want her to die with regrets..."


    As the argument continued intermittently, Bet leaned against the staircase railing, smoking a cigarette as if watching a farce unfold.


    "Aren''t you going to mediate?" Yvonne asked over the phone.


    "No, it''s not a good time," Bet replied helplessly.


    This wasn''t the first time Frank and Emma had fought over Mrs. Thompson Sr.


    It was always the same story: Emma would be hysterical, and Frank would beg for forgiveness.


    Bet could almost predict the next scene: his father would soon be on his knees, clinging to his beloved wife''s legs, weeping and pleading.


    If Bet went over to mediate now, it would only make things awkward for all three of them.


    Bet and Yvonne exchanged


    some sweet nothings for a while et


    before Yvonne''s lunch break ended, forcing her to head back to the set, and end the call.


    By the time Bet put his phone back in his jacket pocket, Emma and Frank had finished arguing.


    Bet strode down the stairs.


    In the living room, Emma sat on the sofa, the corners of her eyes still red.


    Frank was attentively handing her a ss of water. "Your voice is hoarse. Have some water."


    Emma shot him a cold nce before taking the ss of warm water and sipping it slowly.


    Seeing that she had calmed down, Frank immediately ordered the servants to clean up the living room. As for the broken porcin figurines and other items, he had plenty more in his collection room-enough for Emma to smash to her heart''s content.


    The servants ts cleaned the floor in silence. Emma noticed the shattered pieces of a rare antique inkwell, one of Frank''s prized possessions. He''d just acquired it at a high price from an auction and had been so fond of it that he kept it in the living room to admire.


    "Sorry, I seem to have identally smashed your prized possession." Emma said,


    her face showing no hint of apology.