Chapter 267

The woman approached with graceful, confident strides, her smile warm and inviting. “Uh, let me introduce you,” Tuff said, clearing his throat. “This is my mom’s goddaughter, Joyce. Joyce, this is Mrs. Kingsley.”

“Mrs. Kingsley, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Joyce said, extending her hand politely.

Amelia, having seen her share of drama, immediately sensed Joyce’s ill intentions. She ignored Joyce’s outstretched hand and looked coldly at Tuff. “Tuff, did you really not invite Joyce to your wedding?”

“Uh, I did,” Tuff said awkwardly. “Maybe Joyce just missed the invite.”

There was a definite attempt to cover for Joyce. Amelia snorted. “She’s just your mother’s goddaughter—doesn’t seem like much of a bond there.”

“Mrs. Kingsley, you misunderstood,” Joyce said, appraising Amelia. “I’ve been abroad for the past six months, so I had no idea Tuff got married.”

Joyce recognized Amelia as someone not to be trifled with. “So you show up the day after the wedding? Wow, you really know how to pick your moment,” Amelia said sarcastically, shooting Joyce a pointed look.

Amelia mirrored Joyce’s gaze, scrutinizing her from head to toe. For the first time, Tuff felt like the awkward filling in a very uncomfortable sandwich. He meekly attempted to ease the tension, forcing a smile. “So, uh, what brings you here, Joyce?”

“I’m here on a work assignment,” Joyce replied calmly. “Didn’t expect to run into you at the hospital.”

Amelia then noticed the bag in Joyce’s hand—it resembled a surgical instrument case. ‘Wait, is she a doctor too?’ Amelia wondered.

“My mother-in-law’s sick,” Tuff explained quickly. “Don’t let us keep you if you’re busy.”

“No problem,” Joyce replied. “I’ll get you a wedding gift later.”

As soon as Joyce left, Tuff sighed in relief. Amelia, having experienced ample drama, possessed a sharp, discerning eye. She gave Tuff a look of pure disdain.

Tuff squirmed under her gaze. “Amelia, could you please stop looking at me like that?”

“She’s totally into you,” Amelia snorted.

Tuff hurriedly protested, “No, no, no! I only see her as a friend…”

“But she clearly doesn’t see you that way,” Amelia retorted coldly. “Tuff, you better not let Kayla down. Or else…”

“How could I ever do Kayla wrong?” Tuff straightened, confident. “Relax, that’s never gonna happen.”

Amelia finally dropped the subject. Still, she decided to inform Kayla about Joyce to prevent future misunderstandings.

Landon and Kayla arrived at a casino near the Gellar villa, searching for Shelby’s husband, Tristan.

“Oh, Landon? What brings you here?” Tristan, balding and round, puffed on a cigarette while playing tiles. Judging by his demeanor, luck wasn't on his side.

“Tristan,” Landon said with a nod. “I need to talk to you about something important.”

“Let me finish this hand first,” Tristan grumbled, barely looking up as he discarded a tile.

The casino was smoky, and Tristan appeared completely engrossed in the game. He didn’t resemble a retired government employee.

“Tristan,” Landon pressed, his voice more serious.

Tristan snapped, shoving his tiles forward. “What’s with all the shouting? You think a youngster like you can just talk back to me?”

The other players laughed and left when they saw Tristan’s outburst. They were surprisingly tolerant. It seemed everyone was accustomed to Tristan’s bad moods.

“What rotten luck! Running into your whole family—must’ve been cursed,” Tristan grumbled, storming out of the casino.

Landon asked, “Aunt Shelby and Marvin still haven’t come home. Aren’t you even going to do something about it?”

“Do something?” Tristan sneered. “What could I possibly do?”

“So you really don’t care at all?” Landon pressed.

Tristan gave a cold laugh. His disgusted expression spoke volumes. The love between husband and wife had long since vanished, and even the father-son bond was barely clinging on.

Kayla spoke up, “Tristan, you didn’t come to my wedding yesterday.”

“Weren’t you guys supposed to be cutting ties with the Gellar family?” Tristan shot back. “Only those shameless two would have the nerve to show up.” He was clearly blaming his wife and son.

Landon cut to the chase. “Tristan, do you know about Jeffrey?”

Tristan’s face paled, and he trembled. “Who are you talking about?”

“Aunt Shelby’s youngest child—a boy,” Landon said.

“That damn woman!” Tristan exploded. “She actually gave him a name? The kid’s dead, and she still wants to remember him for the rest of her life?”

Landon and Kayla exchanged a glance—Tristan knew what happened, but he was unaware the boy was still alive.

“Tristan, what happened back then?” Kayla asked.

Tristan looked at Kayla’s facial scars, his voice full of resentment. “Ask your father!”

“My father’s dead,” Kayla shrugged. “You know that.”

Tristan choked, then paced, clearly agitated. Kayla and Landon waited silently.

After a while, Tristan calmed down. He lit another cigarette but didn’t smoke it.

“Why are you suddenly asking about the boy?” Tristan asked.

“Aunt Shelby showed up with him at my wedding yesterday,” Kayla replied.

Tristan, who had just calmed down, exploded again. “He—he’s still alive?”

“What did you expect, Tristan?” Kayla replied coolly.

“He should be dead. I was the one who strangled him with my own hands…” Tristan stammered, his voice shaking in disbelief. His lips quivered, and his pupils shrank, shock evident on his face.

“But he’s still alive. He’s thirteen now,” Kayla said. “Tristan, you were caught up in this mess too. That’s why we’re here to talk.”

Tristan threw his head back and laughed, a bitter, maniacal sound filling the room.

“Tristan, how did that kid even happen?” Landon asked.

“Obviously, it was your dear father and your lovely aunt who made him,” Tristan said, his eyes welling up. “Those shameless cheaters! They even used my job to threaten me!”

Landon struggled to accept this. ‘Was my father really involved with Aunt Shelby?’

Ever since Jeffrey appeared, Landon had considered various explanations—a drunken mistake, drugs, mistaken identity… But cheating? He’d never considered that. In his mind, his father had always been a perfect gentleman. He honored his elders, cared for the young, and even in business, he was kind-hearted. He’d always been close to his mother—even while dying, his biggest worry was her survival. ‘How could he have betrayed Mom and hooked up with Aunt Shelby?’ Landon thought, disbelief churning within him.

“Landon, are you shocked?” Tristan sneered. “Your oh-so-respected father, the one everyone praises, turned out to be the kind of scum who’d sleep with his own sister-in-law.”

The words hit Landon like a slap, his brows furrowing in pain and disbelief.

“You don’t believe it, do you?” Tristan laughed coldly.

Landon felt a shiver down his spine, wondering if Tristan had lost his mind.

“And you, Kayla? Do you buy any of this?” Tristan turned his sharp gaze on her.

Suddenly, a thought struck Kayla. ‘Wait—he was born ten years after I was kidnapped!’ ‘Could it be that my father was forced into this by Aunt Shelby, all because of me?’ Kayla wondered, her heart pounding. The thought was a beam of light piercing the storm clouds—a sliver of hope.

“I don’t believe it. My dad would never do something like that,” Kayla said firmly. Tristan threw his head back and laughed again, a bitter, maniacal sound echoing through the room.

He laughed for a long time before stopping. When the laughter subsided, the man, well past sixty-five, wept.

“Isaac, what a blessing for you,” Tristan said bitterly. “Even after you’re gone and your name is still stained, your kids still believe you did nothing wrong.”