Chapter 434

Onon gripped the steering wheel, his fingers loosening as he gasped. His tall frame slumped in the seat as he processed Percival's words. It felt as though an invisible net was closing in.

“Because of your hypothesis from ten years ago, you’ve allowed Edie to run wild, using the Stewart family’s resources to prop up the Simpson family,” Percival’s voice echoed through the phone. “Are you setting a trap to prove your hypothesis, or are you preparing for the consequences?”

Orson's mind raced. He understood Percival's implication but didn't press for details. Unbeknownst to Orson, Percival had spent years preparing, not just for the present, but for the validation of a long-hidden theory.

Orson snapped his fingers. “Nice.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect Odalys, even if it means my life. I won’t let a single hair on her head be harmed,” Orson said, his voice resolute.

He recounted his day: Odalys intimidating Edie and probing her mind, exposing Sophia's true nature, and collecting hair and blood samples from Sophia and Henry. He also mentioned Odalys' suspicion that Henry was destined for Sophia.

Percival listened silently, then fell into a heavy quiet.

“Percival! Are you still there?” Orson asked after a long pause.

“Did she see Edie and Sophia’s minds and not tell you?” Percival’s voice returned, tinged with disbelief.

“Yes,” Orson replied. “I get the feeling Odalys is on the verge of a big decision. I’m worried… danger is imminent.”

Orson's concern was evident, but he didn't want to appear distrustful of Percival.

“I understand,” Percival responded curtly. He ended the call abruptly.

“Percival! Percival! Damn it, he hung up!” Orson cursed, staring at the phone. He tried calling back, but the line was dead. He couldn't tell if it was a poor signal or something else.

Restlessness gnawed at him as he rubbed his temples.

“Damn it, Odalys said she’d handle Percival’s safety. Why am I still worried? I’m probably overthinking,” Orson muttered. But then he remembered Percival's words—the Simpson villa didn't exist—and it hit him like a bolt of lightning.

His heart leaped. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal and sped toward Odalys' company.

He arrived to find someone leaving after placing candles inside. Orson hurried inside.

“Grandpa,” he called, his voice strained.

Evander was seated, wiping a table and arranging candles with quiet precision.

“What’s going on? Why the rush?” Evander asked without looking up.

Orson closed the door and recounted Percival's revelation. Evander listened impassively.

“What should we do? Do we need a strategy?” Orson asked anxiously.

Orson couldn't make decisions about the Stewart family alone; he needed Evander's guidance.

Evander poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Orson, who drank it quickly. He glanced at Evander, waiting for an answer.

“Grandpa, say something. Any thoughts?” Orson pressed.

Chapter 431

Evander leaned back. “They have their own plans. Let them handle it. We don’t need to get involved.”

Orson stared, stunned.

“You’re not going to do anything? What if the Simpson family makes their move? Percival’s not in Crownridge, the news is controlled, but the Simpsons have been eyeing the Stewarts. If they get wind of something, it could spiral out of control.”

“I’m worried about them coming after you and Odalys,” Orson added, his voice filled with concern. He needed the Stewart family's backing.

“I promised Odalys I wouldn’t leave the house or get involved in anything other than Stewart Villa business,” Evander replied calmly.

Orson blinked in disbelief. He and Evander sat in silence, lost in thought.

“Don't take things at face value, and don't rush. You’ll only walk into a trap. Patience is key,” Evander finally said.

Orson realized how his worries had clouded his judgment. He had almost made a critical mistake. The calm atmosphere helped settle his mind.

“Light a candle for the ancestors,” Evander said.

He gestured for Orson to wash his hands and pass him the candles. Orson hurried, but the candle tilted, and in his haste, he burned his hand. The candle fell.

“Sorry, I’m terrible at lighting candles. I’m just nervous,” Orson muttered.

Before he could pick it up, Evander silently took the candle and placed it perfectly. Orson felt a strange, eerie feeling.

“Grandpa, I’ll head out now,” Orson said uncertainly. He had intended to stay, but something felt wrong. His team hadn't reported back on Oliver; the delay was too strange.

“Wait,” Evander called as Orson turned to leave.

Orson paused and turned back.

“I’ll call Odalys,” Evander said, taking out his phone.

A strange sound came from outside. The hallway was empty. Then, something flew toward Orson—a knife, gleaming in the sunlight. He barely raised his arm in time to block it; his wrist was his most valuable asset. In that moment, the threat was all that mattered.

(Note: There are still some minor inconsistencies—like the switching between "Onon" and "Orson"—that require clarification from the original source. The story also abruptly ends mid-sentence.)