Chapter 464: Unexpected Situation: Attack!

On my way to the Bolton residence, I reflected on my recent time with Dominic and his family. His two sons were quite different—one naive and sweet, the other fiercely protective. Amber was entirely focused on Carter, and Dominic was consumed by revenge against the Sanders, leaving him uninterested in Bolton affairs.

This suggested the organization targeting the Boltons was using the Carlyns as pawns. Looking back, I suspected the Carlyn couple held a high rank within the organization. In her letter, the Commander's wife asked my grandmother to eliminate the Carlyns, but Grandma spared them. She also proposed a sea-based moneymaking venture, which I suspect was a euphemism for human organ trafficking. Grandma refused.

Perhaps this defiance angered them—those who once obeyed her would not dare defy her. The Carlyns, eager for revenge, shifted their focus and seized the family. What could be safer than having enemies under your nose? The Commander and his wife, having fooled both the Carlyns and Sanders, were truly aiming for the Boltons. They orchestrated a complex scheme, manipulating everyone.

“Dad, I suspect the Boltons are their real target. Do you know anything?”

Jeffrey twirled his pen. “I’ve been investigating. Your instincts are right—they aim to seize the Boltons' wealth.”

This revelation, while surprising, made sense. The Boltons were true aristocrats, a prominent Snowville family for over a century. Many undeveloped plots of land in Snowville still belonged to them. After the new order, Jeffrey aggressively leveraged his past wealth to amass another fortune. The Boltons were a tempting prize—perhaps the Commander and his wife had coveted them for decades.

That explained why he'd protected Ronald during the assassination attempt, right in front of the Commander and his wife. No wonder Wisteria befriended Luke and married into the Boltons. Revenge against the Sanders was one task; she likely had others.

Jeffrey's expression darkened. “That couple used military power for years to commit crimes. They tried multiple times to control the Boltons, but fearing accountability, they left Snowville. I never imagined they still coveted the Boltons, scheming to destroy us. Sheila failed, so they sent Wisteria to gradually take control of the Bolton heirs. Their scheming is frightening!”

If the Carlyns' revenge on the Sanders was premeditated, this couple was ruthless.

“Dad, are the twins involved?”

“Whether or not, they’ve been brainwashed into pawns in their plot for revenge against me. Cough, cough.” Jeffrey leaned on the table, his frail form belying an intense aura. “If I’d known their intentions, I wouldn't have spared them. It only created a lasting threat.” I was grateful Sheila never harmed Jeffrey during their years together.

It became clear Jeffrey was a force to be reckoned with, even now causing the Commander and his wife to resort to underhanded tactics.

“Chloe, don’t worry. I will track those thieves and make them apologize.”

Relief washed over me.

“Do you know where they are?”

“As long as I have a target, even at the ends of the earth, I’ll find them and make them pay! Cough, cough…”

It was a shame to see such a hero in decline. At least the Boltons had Carter, unlike the Sanders, who lacked a successor.

“Dad, rest. Carl is back, you don’t need to worry. With that cough, see a doctor.”

Jeffrey's eyes darkened. “I wronged that child.” His loyalty to his first wife had made him distant and cold towards his illegitimate son.

I couldn't judge the elders' complexities, so I helped him to his room and called the family doctor. Grandpa seemed to be aging faster than ever, looking frail and worrying. I said goodbye to Grandma and hoped he’d live as long as possible. Time, please be kind to this old man.

After the doctor's examination, I nervously asked, “What’s wrong with Dad?”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Zoey. Mr. Bolton has pneumonia. A saline drip and he’ll be fine.”

“Then I’ll leave it to you.”

“Of course.”

I peeled fruit for Jeffrey. The doctor’s hands—rough and dark, with thick calluses on his knuckles, index finger, and thumb—caught my attention. Surgeons have calluses on their fingertips; why so many on the knuckles? Unless… his weapon wasn’t a scalpel—but a gun! A hand constantly gripping a gun would develop calluses there. He was tall and straight, wearing a white mask and coat, his neck and skin very dark. Something was wrong! He wasn't a doctor; he was likely an assassin!

Jeffrey was also studying him, sensing something was amiss.

“Where’s Dr. Laurence? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“He’s busy, but my skills are excellent,” he replied calmly, drawing cloudy liquid from a small bottle with the syringe. The veins bulged on the back of his hand. The arm under the coat was muscular. In the room were only me, the butler, and an old man. I had one chance.

I couldn’t panic. I couldn’t be nervous.

Using his medicine preparation, I moved closer to Jeffrey with the fruit. “Dad, I’ve peeled an apple for you. Have some.” He glanced at me. I swung the fruit plate at the man. He blocked it, and I drove the knife towards his heart. His eyes glinted; his reaction was lightning fast. He blocked my strike and drew his gun. Bang!