?Chapter 1466:

    His wordsnded like a blow. Tracy sat frozen, pale and defeated.

    Regret twisted through her chest like a knife.

    She had looked down on Corrine, treated her like an embarrassment. And now? Now she was nothing more than a cautionary tale.

    If Bruce had parted with Corrine on good terms… if she herself had not been so venomous… things might have been different.

    “It is all my fault,” Tracy whispered, her voice barely audible. “I should never have opposed their rtionship. If I had not pushed them apart, our family would not be drowning in disaster…” Perhaps their business might have flourished.

    After all, the Ford family was the wealthiest in Lyhaton!

    Had they allied with the Ford family, that alone could have rewritten their entire fate.

    But her words were cut short by sudden, hollowughter. Farris let out augh that rang with bitter irony, stumbling backward as it erupted from deep within his chest. The old man’s cane slipped from his grasp and ttered to the floor as he slumped onto a chair behind him.

    Hearing Farrisugh sent a cold shiver down Mird’s spine. He took a hesitant step forward. “Dad, are you alright?”

    But Farris was adrift in his own mind, lost under the weight of something no one else could see. His son’s voice never reached him.

    Across the room, Tracy stared at him, her face pale and stricken. Fear clung to her eyes like fog. She sprang from her seat and hurried over to Mird, tugging at his sleeve. “Do you think… do you think the shock drove him mad?”

    “What nonsense are you saying?” Mird brushed her hand away and walked straight to his father. “Dad, weren’t you always the one who said there is a way out of every corner?” His voice cracked slightly. “Maybe… maybe there is still room to maneuver.”

    g?lnσν????s?c?m fuels your imagination

    Room to maneuver…

    Farris shook his head with a bitterugh. Of course, he wished there was room to salvage the situation. But somewhere deep within, Farris knew—the Ford family had not left them an inch of breathing space. They had shut the Ashton family outpletely, and with intent.

    Farris stood motionless, eyes zed with memories. Years of guiding the Ashton name through the cutthroat business world and social firestorms—years that had finally earned him a seat at Lyhaton’s highest tables. And yet, just when his influence peaked, illness had dragged him into the shadows. Forced to retreat, he had ced all his hopes in the next generation. His children had disappointed him. So he had chosen the most promising among his grandchildren—grooming that child personally, molding him with every ounce of strength left in his body. And now? It was all crumbling in the hands of that very heir. Was this the fate carved for the Ashton name?

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