Chapter 521

Vincent wasted no time in giving a sharp command.

A servant, operating under the guise of ordinary cleaning, entered Erica's room.

With practiced hands, the servant searched swiftly yet carefully, and before long uncovered several crumpled scraps buried deep within the trash can.

Each paper was littered with chaotic scribbles, whole lines scratched out again and again, the handwriting echoing frustration that nearly bled through the ink.

Yet, amid the mess, a few words stood out-circled heavily, ringed with arrows and question marks that stabbed like accusations. Most striking among them was a single name-Logan Grant.

The moment Vincent learned of this, he snapped a photo and forwarded it to Hannah. Hannah, eyes fixed on the circled name, knit her brows so tightly that they almost touched. "Logan Grant... Could he be Erica's new financial backer? Or perhaps the linchpin she's relying on?"

Vincent's expression hardened, a chill settling over his features. "Whoever he is, since Erica places such weight on him, there must be something unusual. I'll have someone dig into every corner of his past and the web of his connections."

Once the matter was settled, Vincent turned to retire for the night. This was the day of the weekly family dinner at the estate, and he had chosen, as usual,to stay over.

Just as he was about to climb the stairs, Danica appeared, holding a glass of warm milk that gave off gentle steam. "Vincent, are you heading to bed already?" she asked, her face softened by a smile as she held the glass toward him. "No matter how busy your work keeps you, you must still look after your health. Here, drink this milk before sleeping-it will soothe you." The tenderness in her eyes made Vincent pause,suspicion flickering like a shadow across his mind.Yet, he brushed it aside, chalking it up as unusual rather than threatening.

Not wishing to stir conflict over such a trivial offering,he accepted the glass and dutifully drank a few sips.

"Well? How does it taste?" Danica prodded, her gaze locked on him with smiling insistence.

"Not bad," Vincent replied evenly, setting the glass back on the tray.

Her smile brightened, more eager now. "Actually,this milk wasn't from me. It was prepared by your cousin,Coyle. He's been concerned about you, hearing how hard you've been working. He made sure the milk was delivered especially for you-he truly cares."

As she spoke, her hand gestured toward the door.

From outside, Coyle shuffled in, head bowed, a stiff smile tugging at his lips. "Vincent..."

Vincent's gaze shifted between his mother and his cousin, the puzzle fitting together in an instant. Their little game was clear as day. The softness in his features vanished, replaced by cold steel. "Enough circling around. Just say what it is you really want."

For a moment, Danica's smile faltered, but she quickly rallied, playfully chiding, "How can you speak like that? We're family-what could I possibly want?It's only that Coyle is getting older, and idleness won't do. I thought perhaps he could find a place in the Jones Group. Working under you would give him experience."

Vincent held his silence, his eyes glacial as they landed on Coyle, whose hunched shoulders betrayed his lack of confidence.

Sensing the tension thickening, Danica nudged Coyle,urging him on.

Mustering a shaky breath, Coyle finally blurted,"Vincent, could I... Could I get the position of a vice president at the Jones Group?"

The words, once out, seemed to stun even Coyle himself. His face burned as he lowered his head,ashamed by the absurdity of his own request.

The room sank into a heavy silence.

Vincent's lips curled in a cold, mocking arc, as though he had just heard the punchline to a cruel joke. "Vice president? Coyle, do you even grasp what that means? Do you know your own measure? A college dropout, empty-handed in knowledge, dares to dream of sitting in that chair?"

Coyle's face turned deathly pale; his head drooped further, as if he wished the floor might swallow him whole.

Danica's expression had soured with barely contained anger. Struggling to keep her composure,she said, "Must you speak to your cousin like that?He can learn! He's still young, with time enough ahead. Why not give him a chance to grow? You've often said you want to groom a successor,haven't you?I believe Coyle is suitable. If not for him, then at least for my sake-"

"Your 'sake' has never weighed much with me,"Vincent cut her off, his eyes flashing as they bore into he r. "When have you ever shown me such kindness? Since childhood, you've known only how to demand, to press, to scold. When was it ever your habit to bring me milk or speak a gentle word? At times, I truly wonder whether I am your son at all."