Chapter 170

The moment Eleanor Hawthorne stormed out, she hissed under her breath, "My father has truly lost his mind."

Once the door clicked shut behind her, Olivia Sinclair was overcome with guilt. She pressed a hand to her chest, her expression remorseful as she silently conveyed that she had wanted to visit sooner but had been tangled in too many obligations.

William Hayes gave her a tender smile, his voice warm but weary. "I understand, my dear. You've always been so kind to me. You must have been worried sick while I was ill."

Olivia's lips curved into a soft smile. She reassured him that the doctors were optimistic—with proper rest, he would recover fully and live many more years.

William sighed deeply before broaching the subject. "Alexander mentioned you're considering a different position within Whitmore Holdings. Do you feel the consultant role isn't suited for you?"

Olivia shook her head and quickly typed on her phone, then showed him the screen: "I struggle with communication. This role would be better suited for someone else. I'd prefer to focus on relic restoration. I also plan to return part of my salary to Alexander. You've all been so generous, and with Whitmore Holdings facing difficulties, I don’t want to burden you further."

"Nonsense," William snapped, his irritation triggering a harsh coughing fit.

Olivia rushed to his side, steadying him as she gently patted his back.

He shot her a look that was both exasperated and affectionate. "Why the formality? I already consider you my granddaughter. There’s no need to return your salary or change positions. Just do your best at work and leave the rest to me. I may be old, but my mind is sharp. I didn’t assign you this role without reason. If you refuse, it means you don’t trust me. Why even bother visiting, then?"

Olivia’s heart clenched at his words.

They said the elderly often regressed to childlike stubbornness, and perhaps there was truth in that.

Relenting, she promised to stay with Whitmore Holdings, which finally eased the tension in William’s expression.

He exhaled slowly. "Even if you weren’t with the company, I would still give you those twenty million. It’s a debt I owe you and Henry. This role is meant to ease your mind, not add to your worries. Work hard, Olivia. And if anyone mistreats you, tell me. Don’t suffer in silence like Alexander did. When I’m gone, he’ll lead this family. He’ll protect you. You have nothing to fear."

His grip on her hand tightened, his eyes filled with concern.

Tears pricked at Olivia’s lashes. She typed quickly: "Please don’t worry. You’ll recover. The doctor was very optimistic."

Eleanor, lingering just outside the door, had heard everything. Her face darkened as she muttered, "That mute witch?"

When Olivia stepped out, Eleanor shot her a venomous glare.

Olivia held onto William’s words.

He had confided in her about Eleanor and Julian’s misdeeds. Though aware, he felt powerless to stop them. Years ago, in a fit of rage, he had wounded Eleanor deeply, but she was still his daughter. Cutting ties was unthinkable.

If Eleanor showed remorse, he would maintain the fragile peace—only intervening if she crossed the line.

Olivia didn’t entirely agree.

Greed, she believed, was nurtured, not inherent.

Still, she remained silent, understanding the weight of William’s words. In old age, people yearned for their children’s love. If Eleanor changed, she and Julian could still have fulfilling lives. Their fate was in their own hands.

Back in the hospital room, Eleanor watched William take his medication before decisively dialing Julian’s number.

She didn’t hold back. "Julian, Olivia visited your grandfather today. I don’t understand what spell that mute has cast. She’s not even blood-related, yet your cousin defends her, and so does your grandfather."

Julian’s voice sharpened with concern. "Where are you now?"

Eleanor smirked. "In his hospital room. Don’t worry—he just took his medicine and is dead asleep. Even an earthquake wouldn’t wake him."

Julian exhaled sharply. "Mother, I’ve told you to be careful. Step outside if you need to talk."

Grumbling, Eleanor retreated to the bathroom. "I overheard William mention twenty million and supporting her. What does that mean? Is he planning to leave her part of his estate?"

She hadn’t caught everything, but the sum of twenty million stuck in her mind.

Julian’s tone turned urgent. "I thought William wouldn’t be so reckless, but now I’m not sure. He might not leave it directly to her, but he could increase Alexander’s share to ensure she’s taken care of."

Eleanor’s stomach twisted. "What do we do? Your grandfather never intended to give us anything, and now with Olivia in the picture, if he boosts Alexander’s inheritance because of her, we’ll be left with nothing!"

"Don’t worry," Julian soothed, his voice laced with dark intent. "We’ll ruin Olivia’s reputation so thoroughly that the Whitmores will cut all ties with her. Then, we’ll find a way to claim that twenty million for ourselves."

Eleanor brightened. "I’ll leave it to you. Don’t worry about the hospital—I have everything under control here."

After hanging up, Julian stared at the imposing gates of the Blackwood Villa.

With determined strides, he approached and knocked. When admitted, he wasted no time. "Is Mrs. Evelyn Hartley available?"

The servant relayed his request.

Evelyn, unfamiliar with the name, frowned. "The Hawthorne family? Do we know them?"

But the title Mrs. Hartley piqued her interest.

"Anyone who finds their way here must be significant," she mused. "Let him in."

Greeting Julian with practiced grace, Evelyn ushered him inside.

Julian lavished her with compliments, each word carefully crafted to stroke her ego.

Pleased, Evelyn finally arched a brow. "What brings you here? Are you hoping I’ll put in a good word for you with Liam? I’m afraid I can’t help you."

Julian shook his head smoothly. "Not at all. I’m here because we share a common enemy."

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