Female NovelHe took a seat on the sofa and used a tissue to staunch the bleeding from his forehead.
Korbyn fixated his gaze on Waylen and remarked sharply, “Why the silence now? Waylen, you truly are something! Aware of Harold’s involvement with Rena, you proceeded to steal Rena away. And when you tire of playing with her, you intend to discard her covertly, don’t you? What course of action do you believe is fitting for you now?”
Waylen’s words trickled out slowly, laden with a weighty significance, “Cecilia yearns to sever ties with Harold.”
A subtle, enigmatic smile graced Waylen’s countenance as he pressed on, his voice dripping with sincerity, “Dad, 1 implore you to divulge your desires concerning the Moore Group and I shall dutifully fulfill them. Should it prove inconvenient for you, I shall shoulder the responsibility gladly.”
Korbyn’s temper flared uncontrollably.
He believed his son possessed a knack for evading matters of importance while fixating on trivialities.
His gaze bore into his wife and his voice erupted in a bellow. “Look at your astute son. So cunning, he is.”Contents belong to NovelDrama.Org
Juliette grew vexed, retorting, “Clearly, he inherited your genes as well. Why do you cast blame on me?”
Korbyn touched his nose pensively, his tone now softening “Summon Rena here. I must have a conversation with her.”
“She is currently in Heron, engrossed in a substantial project.
Dad, you shouldn’t be so worked up. So what she was someone else’s girlfriend before? Besides, Rena was but a pure and innocent woman. Nothing happened between her and Harold. I was her first.”
Korbyn chuckled with an air of enraged amusement.
He extracted a cigarette from his pocket, igniting it with care, inhaling the smoke leisurely am meant to commend you for your swiftness? Is that your source of pride? Waylen, you possess an audacious impudence… Let me make it clear, I do not approve of this.”
Waylen remained unperturbed.
Whether his father approved or not was inconsequential. The crux of the matter lay in Rena’s indifference towards him now.
Waylen then said with restrained composure, “Dad, it seems premature to draw conclusions, wouldn’t you agree? The pivotal issue at hand is Rena’s apathy towards me. My standing has been diminished.”
Korbyn derived a sense of satisfaction from this response. He cast a sidelong glance at Waylen and uttered, “Loser!”
Observing Korbyn’s expression slightly ease, Waylen resolved to exert further effort, but before he could act, the housekeeper hurriedly approached, her voice tinged with anxiety. “Mr. and Mrs. Fowler, a Mr. Evans from Czanch is requesting an audience with Mr. Waylen.”
A Mr. Evans from Czanch?
Korbyn’s extensive experience in the business realm set him apart from ordinary individuals, endowing him with a heightened intuition.
He sensed that something significant was about to unfold.
Hastily striding towards the window, he flung the curtains open, revealing several sleek black limousines adorning his courtyard. Though not extravagantly priced, these were Audi A8s, signature vehicles of some certain important people and typically reserved for special occasions.
Korbyn ventured a guess regarding the visitor’s identity.
It should be Mark Evans, the present head of the illustrious Evans family in Czanch.