CHAPTER 24: EASTON AISTON GREATEST FEAR

"Turn a blind eye?"

A vein pulsed visibly at Mr. Nolan’s temple as he glanced toward the side hall outside the window.

"You little brat, what the hell are you scheming?"

Of course, Nolan thought to himself, it was about freeing the Nolan family from the clutches of Luna and the Hill family.

But he wasn’t about to spill everything before the plan was complete.

"You’ve always played it safe. Best not to know for now."

His voice was slow and low, laced with a chill that was impossible to miss.

Played it safe?

How was that any different from calling him a coward to his face?

Mr. Nolan’s nostrils flared with rage at his son’s words.

"You damn—"

Before he could finish, Nolan cut him off.

"Save the scolding for after it’s done."

Mr. Nolan was about to say more when the call abruptly ended.

"That damn kid’s really grown some nerve," he muttered under his breath.

He could only hope the Nolan family wouldn’t be ruined under his watch.

Meanwhile, Nolan hung up and immediately dialed another number.

"Luna found out," he said tersely. ——

At Hill Manor.

"What the hell is going on?"

Easton froze mid-motion, his face darkening as he glared at the tightly shut doors.

Sinclair, however, merely smirked.

He reached for the bottle of red wine on the table and poured himself a glass, his movements smooth and unhurried—a stark contrast to the suffocating tension in the hall.

Watching him, Easton felt an inexplicable unease creep into his gut. In a burst of frustration, he snatched the bottle in front of him and hurled it to the floor.

The glass shattered violently against the marble tiles, the sharp crash echoing through the room.

"Where are they?!" he roared.

"Why aren’t they here yet?!"

As the words fell, the door finally swung open from the outside.

The butler stepped in, his face pale.

Aiston let out a sigh of relief upon seeing him.

"What took you so long?"

His gaze shifted back to Sinclair, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Have this man taken to the backyard and executed."

Sinclair took a slow sip of his red wine, his lips curling into a mocking smile as he regarded Aiston.

"Execute me?

How ruthless of you, Earl."

"You should have expected this the moment you and that woman set foot in E Country," Aiston sneered before turning impatiently to the butler.

"Lide, did you not hear my order?

Why are you just standing there?"

Yet the butler remained frozen in place, his lips trembling as if struggling to speak.

His eyes, wide with terror, were fixed on Aiston.

Aiston’s instincts flared, his body tensing with sudden wariness.

"What’s going on?"

The butler flicked his eyes toward the doorway behind him, clenched his jaw, and forced out a shaky whisper.

"Lord... Lord Earl, it’s terrible! Sinclair’s men—"

*BANG!*

The words were cut short as a bullet tore through the speaker’s skull from behind.

The sudden violence sent a jolt of terror through Easton, his pupils contracting sharply as he shot up from his seat.

Before he could react, a dozen armed men filed through the door.

At their head stood Luke. "President Luther—"

The color drained from Easton’s face, his lips trembling as he forced out the words.

"What... what is the meaning of this?"

His glare locked onto the composed, strikingly handsome man before him.

"What have you done in *my* estate?" Sinclair’s dark, narrow eyes slowly narrowed further.

"If the Earl is curious, he’s welcome to step outside and see for himself." Easton didn’t move.

As much as he refused to believe it, he knew the truth. If Sinclair’s men had breached this far, his own forces had already been completely neutralized.

His legs gave way, and he collapsed back into his seat, his aged, bloodshot eyes fixed on Sinclair with a venomous glare.

"You dare slaughter my men on E soil?"

Sinclair regarded the terrified Easton, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his dark, fathomless eyes.

"Whether I dare or not—haven’t you already witnessed it?"

His voice was slow, deliberate, laced with a chilling menace that sent shivers down the spine.

"You’re insane—completely out of your mind!"

Easton’s voice trembled as he met Sinclair’s pitch-black eyes, devoid of even a glimmer of light.

A wave of uncontrollable dread surged through him.

"Sinclair, the Grand Princess will hear of this soon enough," he rasped, forcing a show of bravado as he swallowed hard.

"She won’t let you get away with this.

And that wife of yours—that woman with the former Crown Prince’s blood running through her veins—you’ll all pay for my men’s lives!"

Sinclair arched an eyebrow, his gaze inscrutable.

"Oh?"

When no trace of fear flickered across Sinclair’s face, Easton’s eyes betrayed a flash of panic.

"Of course.

If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me go," he snapped, masking his unease with a glare.

"I might even put in a word with the Grand Princess—so you two can die together."

Still spouting nonsense even with death at his doorstep.

Luke watched Easton’s pathetic posturing with a cold sneer. Instead of responding, Sinclair swirled the wine in his glass and let out a low, chilling laugh.

"What’s so funny?"

Easton’s brows knitted tightly together.

"I forgot to mention to the Earl," Sinclair lifted his gaze, his eyes locking onto Easton’s, "that Camilla has already entered the palace and met with the Queen."

"What?!" Easton’s heart lurched, his legs nearly giving way beneath him.

"The entire palace is under the Crown Princess’s control—how could she possibly get in?"

"The fact remains," Sinclair said slowly, his voice icy, "that my wife is already inside."

His eyes darkened.

"And she’s uncovered that the Queen isn’t ill—she’s been poisoned."

Poisoned?!

The word struck Easton like a physical blow. His body stiffened, his breath hitching in his throat as if the air had been stolen from his lungs.

"You—" he gaped at Sinclair, his lips parting soundlessly, too stunned to form a coherent response.

Only he, the princess, and a few trusted confidants were privy to this matter.

There was absolutely no way Sinclair could have learned about it through other channels.

Could it be that woman had actually entered the palace and uncovered the truth about the queen’s poisoning?!

Sinclair observed the panic flickering across Easton’s face and knew his suspicions were correct.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly.

"Bring him in."

The man’s deep, emotionless voice snapped Easton out of his spiraling thoughts.

"Yes, sir!"

Luke turned and strode out of the room.

Him? Who?

Easton stared at the door in terror, his face shifting from pale to ashen as a dreadful premonition coiled in his gut.

Moments later, Luke returned, escorting a middle-aged man with a kindly expression.

"Mr. Luther" Sinclair’s gaze remained impassive.

"Begin."

"Yes, sir!"

The middle-aged man nodded slightly, then strode purposefully toward Aiston’s position.

"What are you starting?

What the hell do you want?"

Aiston’s unease grew as the man approached.

He scrambled to rise from his seat, panic flashing in his eyes.

But before he could even straighten up, a mercenary—who had appeared behind him without warning—clamped a heavy hand on his shoulder, pinning him down effortlessly.

"Sinclair, you damn demon!

You’d better let me go, or I swear you’ll regret this—"

"Lord Aston, please calm yourself," the man said, settling into the seat opposite him with a composed smile.

His gaze was steady, his tone almost soothing.

"Who the hell are you?

Sinclair’s got no idea what he’s messing with—are you out of your mind too? How dare you help him against me—" "You misunderstand," the man replied, unfazed by Aston’s fury.

His expression remained tranquil as he reached into his coat, retrieving something.

"I’m not here as Mr. Luther’s ally."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and deliberate.

"I came to show you something."