That evening, George returned with Yelena and Raquel in tow. Deborah had chosen to stay at the hospital to care for Jesse and wouldn’t be home for the next few days. As a result, only a few members of the Quixall household were present that night.

Caleb had originally planned to wait for the right moment to inform George about the Sherman family butler’s visit. But before he had the chance, Agnes had already spilled the news. “Mr. Quixall,” she said, “an older gentleman from the Sherman family came by earlier. He claimed that someone from our household stole something from them.”

George had barely sat down when he was hit with the accusation. Fury surged through him. Without a second thought, he lashed out, “Caleb, was it you? Did you steal it? You really are disgraceful—I wonder what kind of people your real parents were, to raise someone like you!”

Caleb’s expression didn’t waver. “And who exactly can prove I stole anything when there’s no evidence?” he said coolly. “Mr. Quixall, I suggest you be careful with your words. Everything I’ve done, I learned from this family. So if you say I’m disgraceful, aren’t you just admitting that the entire Quixall family is the same? Aren’t you afraid your words will turn us all into a joke?”

George’s anger surged. His hand shot up, poised to strike. But just in time, Yelena stepped forward and gave a subtle cough—a quiet signal for her father to rein in his temper.

Annoyed, George barked, “Why are you stopping me? I’m going to teach this brat a lesson today!” Yet even as the words left his mouth, a realization dawned on him. Caleb had just accused the Quixall family of being disgraceful—and now, here he was, about to lash out in violence. Wasn’t that just proving Caleb’s point?

That thought hit George hard. His face flushed with embarrassment and anger, caught in the heat of his own contradictions. Five years in prison had clearly changed Caleb. He might not excel in many areas, but when it came to standing his ground and throwing punches with words, he was unmatched.

With a sharp huff, George snapped, “You say you didn’t steal anything? Fine. Then tell me—who else could have done it?”

Caleb didn’t answer. He simply cast a sidelong glance at Raquel. She instantly averted her gaze, too flustered to meet his eyes. The truth was becoming obvious. The only people who had visited the mansion that day were Deborah, Caleb, and Raquel.

Back then, Caleb had been too preoccupied dodging the Quixall family to notice anything else. But judging by Raquel’s reaction now, it was easy to guess what had happened. Once he’d left, she must have been so enraged that she took her anger out on Gianna’s belongings—stealing something in the heat of the moment.

Caleb remained silent, and to George, that silence spoke volumes. “Nothing left to say, huh?” George sneered, his hand shooting out to grab Caleb’s arm. “If you’re speechless, then come with me to the Sherman residence and apologize to them!”

Before George could drag him along, Caleb yanked his arm away with surprising force. “I’ll say it again—I didn’t steal anything, I didn’t do anything!” His sudden movement left George momentarily off-balance, and for a brief moment, he staggered.

As George steadied himself, disbelief flickered across his face. Caleb’s strength was extraordinary. In the past, Caleb had tangled with ruffians, but never like this. Could the transformation of a man in prison be so radical? Had the time behind bars reshaped Caleb completely, physically and mentally? It was as if the boy he had known was gone—replaced by someone else entirely.

George’s mind raced, stunned into a rare silence. “Dad!” Fury blazed in Yelena’s eyes as she shot Caleb a venomous glare. “Isn’t it enough that you’ve poisoned your brother? Now you’re going to assault Dad too? Fine, hit us! Kill us, then go back to prison for another decade!”

Caleb knew he had overreacted. But George’s grip had been strong—he had to pull with everything he had to avoid being dragged away. Caleb hadn’t stolen anything, so he wasn’t about to apologize.

“You, you…” George snapped out of his daze, rage filling his face. “Where’s my whip? I’m going to beat this brat to death!”