Quentin Quinn was at home discussing company projects with a few of his subordinates when Hugo Quinn’s people arrived. His bodyguard was about to take action but was stopped by Quentin. Old Master Quinn remained silent, listening as Hugo’s people issued a few warnings to Quentin before swaggering off. Given Quentin’s personality, he shouldn’t be able to tolerate this, yet he made no move, instead lowering his head in contemplation. "Dad, do you really think my fourth brother has no intentions towards the Quinton Family at all?" The old master took a slow sip of tea and glanced at him. "When Hugo was out there struggling on his own, I didn’t give him a penny. Grandeur Group, from top to bottom, is all his people. If you try to interfere, he’d likely break your legs too. Hugo isn’t greedy, and he’s never had the intention to seize the Quinton Family. On the other hand, you brothers have been up to no small tricks over the years, even placing spies in the old residence." Quentin’s face darkened instantly, realizing the old master knew everything, he just never spoke of it. He clenched his fists tightly, then relaxed, rubbing his temples. "Dad, I won’t do anything to you, but with my fourth brother, that’s another matter. You say all of Grandeur Group is his people? I refuse to believe it." Quentin was ambitious, and this ambition wouldn’t stop at The Quinn Group; he also coveted Grandeur Group. He had someone meet with Lan Yancy, who was Hugo’s most trusted aide. If he could successfully buy off Lan Yancy, it would be much easier. However, no matter how much money was sent, Lan Yancy would accept it but offered no further commitment. Quentin hurled the cup in his hand to the ground, all those gifts sent yet when it came to discussing cooperation, the other side just kept stonewalling him, leaving him with no options. By now, how could he not realize he was being played? Hugo hadn’t even shown up, merely sending an assistant, and he’d already stumbled. A flicker of malice crossed Quentin’s eyes as he suddenly looked at the old master beside him. That fourth brother was indeed very filial to the old master. If he could use the old master to lure the opponent to the old mansion and then kill him, it would solve everything. "Second brother, once you take this step, there’s no turning back." Although Hugo had never intended to take anyone’s life, once his bottom line was crossed, he would spare no one. That night, the matter of the old master being threatened reached Hugo, but more interesting to him was the information Lan Yancy uncovered: the driver was actually following Beatrice Sullivan’s orders. The driver had originally been one of Nathaniel Quinn’s people, but shortly after Nathaniel placed him as a pawn, Beatrice discovered it and directly bought him off. This time, she even ordered him to kill Eleanor Hollis. If it weren’t for the driver’s plan to take Eleanor away and sell her for more, Eleanor might have been dead. Hugo’s lips curled into a smile. He could tolerate other things, but when it came to Eleanor’s safety, anyone involved would pay the price. Gunshots sounded outside the villa; it was quite obvious who sent them. Hugo glanced nonchalantly at Lan Yancy beside him, placing a piece of cake into Marcus’s mouth. "Deal with them, then head to the Quinton Family." Lan Yancy’s eyes were filled with excitement. They had been holding back these days, feeling truly stifled. When had they ever been humiliated ? The boss might have considered some brotherly feelings, but clearly, the others didn’t care at all. Soon, everyone who came was dealt with, and Hugo led his group to the Quinn residence. Quentin was still contemplating the acquisition of Grandeur Group when he heard the commotion outside and realized things were awry, his gaze fixed intently on the living room door. Before long, Hugo strolled in surrounded by people, a serene aura about him as if nothing could stir his heart. Seeing him , Quentin felt a sharp tremor in his heart. Despite sending so many people, why was this man unharmed? Hugo sat down to the side, eyes slightly squinting. Quentin felt an enormous pressure bearing down on him, sweat beading on his forehead as he felt unprecedented panic. The old master remained silent, seeming to have anticipated the outcome long ago. Why had he favored this youngest son all these years? For a reason—his abilities stood out not only in the Quinton Family but in Serenford as well. To him, the others were like ants, and while he could tolerate an ant hopping around him, he would never allow them to cross his boundaries. "Sending so many people shows how much you think of me, second brother. I have a gift for you tonight as well." Hugo said slowly, clapping his hands. The door to the living room was opened again, and Beatrice Sullivan and Joelle Quinn were thrown inside. Both were injured, trembling, but at the sight of Quentin and Old Master Quinn, they struggled to crawl over, only to be stopped by the cold barrels of guns at their temples. Beatrice’s face went pale, instantly too scared to move. Joelle was even whimpering softly, too afraid to beg for mercy. Ever since she was little, Joelle feared this uncle the most, never daring to act out in front of him. "Hugo! What do you want to do?" Quentin’s gaze was fierce, fixed tightly on Hugo. Hugo raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. "Sister-in-law, was that driver sent by you?" As if he hadn’t heard Quentin, Hugo turned to ask Beatrice. Beatrice felt a chill; she was the only one privy to this, not even her daughter Joelle knew. How on earth did Hugo find out? When she learned her son planned to elope with Eleanor Hollis, she devised the plan, determined not to let a girl ruin her son’s future! So she ordered the driver to kill Eleanor; if given the chance, she would make sure it happened! Now hearing Hugo’s question, she knew the plan had failed. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." No evidence meant she would vehemently deny it. Content orıginally comes from 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩•𝗳𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝕟𝕖𝕥 Hugo’s eyes were icy; he had anticipated her refusal to admit it, signaling to someone beside him. The entire hall echoed with Beatrice’s screams as her hand was stomped beneath someone’s foot, bones seemingly shattering. They say ten fingers ache when the heart bleeds; her current agony was unimaginable to others. Sweat poured more profusely from Quentin’s forehead; he gritted his teeth and suddenly stood up.