The next morning, at dawn.
Camilla woke up early to prepare breakfast before immediately heading to the master bedroom.
On the bed lay a man with strikingly handsome features, his eyes still closed, his wrists restrained on either side just as they had been the night before.
Camilla’s long, thick lashes fluttered slightly, her eyes brimming with tenderness.
If not for the overwhelming difference in their strength, she would never have resorted to restraining Sinclair .
Moving quietly, she undid the leather cuffs and set them aside—completely unaware of the subtle differences from the pair she had used the night before.
When she looked up again, she met the man’s deep, alert obsidian eyes.
"Sweetheart, you’re awake!"
Camilla’s beautiful eyes curved into crescents as she smiled sweetly.
"I made breakfast for you.
"Breakfast can wait," Sinclair murmured, pulling her into his arms.
"Right now, I’d rather have Camilla."
With that, he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss.
He had intended to punish Camilla, but the moment he touched her, the meaning changed entirely.
Camilla suddenly remembered that Grandpa Luther was still waiting downstairs and immediately tried to struggle free.
In her haste, her soft lips collided with the man’s teeth, and a thin trail of blood seeped out.
A pained whimper escaped her lips as her clear, beautiful eyes instantly welled up with tears.
The metallic tang of blood made Sinclair’s dark eyes narrow sharply.
His kiss deepened, his lips and teeth entwining with hers in an overwhelming, possessive invasion.
His long, powerful fingers had just begun to explore further when—
*Knock, knock, knock—
* *Knock, knock, knock—*
The door was suddenly wrapped opened.
Then, Uncle Carlos’s voice sounded from outside.
"Mr. Sinclair, Mrs. Luther , grandpa requests your presence for dinner."
Sinclair froze, his brows furrowing deeply. His pitch-black eyes gleamed with razor-sharp intensity.
Taking advantage of the moment, Camilla caught her breath and quickly responded, "We’ll be down in a bit."
She nudged Sinclair, her cheeks flushed as she whispered, "Grandpa is still waiting downstairs.
He probably has something to say to us—stop fooling around."
"Alright," Sinclair murmured, his gaze fixed on her, deep and unreadable like an endless emerald pool.
With that, he rose and headed toward the bathroom.
Only then did Camilla let out a relieved sigh.
*Apparently, I shouldn’t get too close to Sinclair at night... or even in the morning.*
Worried that Grandpa Luther might grow impatient—and even more concerned that Sinclair might resume his mischief—she hurried downstairs ahead of him.
Seated at the head of the table, Grandpa Luther regarded Camilla with warm affection.
"Camilla," he began, his wise eyes lingering briefly on the faint mark on her lips before taking on a knowing glint.
"That rascal Sinclair has a terrible temper, a difficult personality, and plenty of bad habits.
You’ve really put up with a lot."
A difficult personality?
Camilla looked at Grandpa Luther, torn between laughter and exasperation.
"Grandpa," she said softly, her voice brimming with sincerity.
"I think Sinclair is wonderful.
Hearing this, grandpa’s expression softened with emotion.
"Honestly, I don’t know what kind of good karma that brat accumulated in his past life to end up with such a wonderful wife like you."
He paused, then added with a chuckle, "Well, actually, it’s mostly thanks to me.
Even if he’d saved the entire galaxy, it wouldn’t have made a difference otherwise."
"You’re absolutely right about that," Camilla played along, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
"If it weren’t for you, Grandpa, I’d never have married him in the first place."
Uncle Carlos pressed his lips together, a silent smile playing on his face.
"Camilla," Seeing that Camilla’s mood had lightened considerably, Grandpa Luther seized the moment to steer the conversation toward the main topic.
"Grandpa truly thinks of you as his own granddaughter.
If anyone ever mistreats you, you must tell me," he said, lowering his voice with pointed emphasis.
"No matter who it is, Grandpa will stand up for you."
Yet Camilla couldn’t shake the feeling that Grandpa Luther’s demeanor today was a bit off.
There was something in his tone—comforting, yes, but also tinged with what seemed like guilt.
"Grandpa, after everything that’s happened recently, you’ve seen my true nature," Camilla replied, her gaze steady on grandpa’s weathered face as she smiled faintly.
"I’m the one who gives others a hard time, not the other way around."
"Grandpa isn’t talking about outsiders, but—"
Grandpa Luther’s words were abruptly cut off by the sudden sound of approaching footsteps.
Camilla turned her head toward the noise.
Sinclair was still dressed in his signature minimalist black suit, his tall and straight frame exuding an air of effortless elegance.
His strikingly handsome features remained cool and composed, every movement radiating an aloof nobility that set him apart.
Camilla admired him quietly, yet her mind wandered to the memory of his utterly different, desire-fueled intensity from the night before.
What a stark contrast.
Noticing Camilla’s gaze, Sinclair turned his head slightly, the corners of his thin lips curling into a faint, knowing smile.
He walked over and took the seat beside her.
Grandpa Luther, however, harrumphed in disapproval.
His stern expression softened only when he looked at Camilla.
"Camilla," he began, cutting straight to the chase now that the person in question had arrived.
"Tell Grandpa honestly—did this brat mistreat you last night?
I’ll make sure he pays for it!"
After all, the servants had reported seeing Camilla leave the master bedroom in tears the previous night, only to retreat to the guest room.
If that wasn’t mistreatment, what was?
While the Luther household basked in warmth, the capital was in an uproar, its calm surface shattered by unseen turmoil.
#Massacre of the Elite Porter Family#
#The Fall of the Porter Empire—
What’s Next for Porter Corporation?#
#Porter Group Stocks Plummet#
News about the Porter family dominated headlines across major media outlets and social platforms.
Like a hurricane, the reports swept through the entire nation, sending shockwaves through the upper echelons of the capital.
Though the Porter family’s influence had waned, making them incomparable to the Luther Family, their standing was still nothing to scoff at.
No one could have imagined that a dynasty at the pinnacle of society would collapse overnight.
"Killing her own husband and son—has Mrs. Porter lost her mind?"
"Who knows what Mr. Porter did to drive a woman to such extremes."
"The Porter family’s been plagued by scandals for months—guess this was inevitable."
"A century-old dynasty, gone just like that. What a tragedy."
... Of course, what most people were focused on was the financial situation of the Porter family.
After all, no one could resist eyeing such a massive pie.
With the Porter family in crisis, their stock prices plummeted at breakneck speed.
Barely half a day into the trading session, the stocks hit the limit-down threshold.
Converted into assets, nearly ten billion had evaporated almost overnight.
The analyzed data sent waves of panic rippling through the entire corporation.
To make matters worse, many of the families and businesses that had partnered with the Porter family chose this critical moment to withdraw their investments.