Chapter 301 - 300: Her Dad Has Already Grown Up

Yvonne Lowell stirred the noodles in her bowl with her chopsticks, asking nonchalantly into the phone,

"His face changed after just one look?"

"Yes, but Patriarch Lowell was too quick, so I couldn’t see what was inside. He also said that if you have time, you should come home."

Colin replied from the other end of the line.

"Got it. I’ll be back later. Tell everyone on patrol to be extra careful."

A cold smile touched Yvonne Lowell’s lips as she hung up the phone.

She had known the instant the package arrived at the Lowell residence. But since no hazardous materials or listening devices were detected inside, she figured it probably wasn’t from that son of a bitch, so she didn’t have it intercepted.

’After all, her dad was a big boy now. He was entitled to some privacy, wasn’t he?’

’If someone opened it and found something awkward, how would her dad ever show his face again?’

’But judging from Charles Lowell’s reaction now, it wasn’t just *related* to her, was it?’

’It was intricately and inextricably linked to her!’

’What kind of filthy crap did that son of a bitch send him?!’

Just after she hung up, Leo Grant walked in from the terrace, phone in hand.

A moment ago, as luck would have it, both their phones had rung at the same time, so Mr. Grant had consciously and obediently moved away.

"I have to go out for something in a bit."

"I have to go home for something in a bit."

The two said in unison.

Leo Grant walked over to sit across from her and said softly,

"How about this? I’ll take you home first, and then I’ll come find you after I’m done."

"No, it’s fine. I can just drive myself. My dad’s been acting strange ever since he got a package. He told me to come home. I’m guessing that little bastard Lance Young is stirring up trouble again."

Yvonne Lowell didn’t even look up, just quickened the pace of her slurping.

Leo Grant froze for a second. "Uncle Lowell got a package, too?"

"’Too?’ What do you mean?" Yvonne Lowell asked, finally looking up after drinking the last of her soup.

"The Grant Family and my company just received letters addressed to my father and me, respectively. I had my men intercept them. Silas Lynch felt the envelopes; he guesses they’re filled with photos. Could it be from him, too?"

A chill entered Leo Grant’s eyes, but he still remembered to grab a napkin and wipe her mouth for her.

"But why you guys? Why not The Lowell Group or anyone else? And why a package for my family, but letters for yours...?"

’Sent to the Grant Family... Did he write an eighty-thousand-word dissertation and attach full-body photos of every debutante in the world to try and stir up trouble between me and my future in-laws?’

"’Hard to say. We’ll find out when we see them. Should I have Silas Lynch bring them to the Lowell estate now?’ Leo Grant asked.

"’Tell him to wait for us at the gate; he shouldn’t go in yet. I’m going to change, then we’ll head out.’"

Yvonne Lowell stood up and headed for the walk-in closet, saying over her shoulder,

"’Oh, right. Call those two and tell them to head over as well.’"

...

Outside the Lowell family’s villa, Nina Jennings and Zachary Jacobs each held an envelope, wanting to open them but not daring to.

When they saw Yvonne Lowell arrive, they immediately thrust the envelopes into her hands without a word, as if afraid they’d lose their nerve and open them.

Yvonne Lowell glanced at them but said nothing, simply tearing open one of the envelopes.

A stack of photos and a single sheet of paper tumbled out.

"What the fuck?! Where did he get these photos? Wait... how did we not know we were being photographed?!"

Nina Jennings stared in astonishment at the photos Yvonne was flipping through.

Yvonne Lowell’s lips pressed into a thin line, a vein in her neck pulsing with fury.

They were all photos taken of her back at *that place*. Photos of her injured, photos of her covered in blood, and photos... of her killing people.

All of them candid shots, taken without her knowledge.

Yvonne Lowell opened the second envelope. The photos inside were identical; only the notes were different.

One read: "Mr. Grant, your fiancée is a lunatic who kills without batting an eye. Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with a person like that?"

The other: "As a family with a centuries-old legacy, is the Grant Family truly going to let a murderer destroy its pristine, hundred-year reputation?"

’And they were printed out, too. Why not go full movie-villain and make a ransom note out of newspaper clippings?’

Leo Grant deliberately averted his gaze from the photos, snatching the two notes and tearing them to shreds.

"What a coincidence," he said. "I’m also a lunatic who kills without batting an eye. We’re a match made in heaven."

"Is he fucking crazy?" Zachary Jacobs’s eyes filled with rage as he turned to yank open the car door. "No way. I’m going after him right now. I’ll fucking kill him."

"’Stop," Yvonne Lowell commanded, her voice cold as ice.

"Lowell! I..."

Yvonne Lowell cut him off with a single, weightless glance.

"We’re seeing my father first."

...

The Study

Charles Lowell flipped through the stack of photos in his hand over and over, his expression dazed.

His red-rimmed eyes and trembling hands betrayed his inner turmoil.

On the coffee table before him sat several jointed dolls.

All the dolls wore beautiful, exquisite princess dresses, but every last one of them was damaged.

One had its elbow bent back as if broken. Another had scars on its face. Another was covered in scratches. Yet another had a miniature prop knife sewn to its palm.

And one doll had been decapitated, its torso ripped open, its inner armature and cotton stuffing spilling onto the floor.

Even the blood splattered across them looked horrifyingly real.

Charles Lowell leaned back weakly in his chair and closed his eyes. The photos in his hand were crumpled from the force of his grip.

When he opened his eyes again, they held nothing but cold indifference.

He picked up the lighter from the table, ignited the corner of a photograph, and tossed it into the nearby ashtray.

He calmly burned one photo after another, watching them turn to ash. The faint firelight reflected in his pupils, as if he were bidding a final farewell to the person in the photos and everything they represented.

When Yvonne Lowell knocked and entered, she found the study thick with smoke. The wide-open window did little to clear the air.

Charles Lowell, who had been puffing on a cigarette just a moment before, immediately snuffed it out.

"You’re all here. This is what I received at noon. That foreign bastard is probably trying to threaten me."

Charles Lowell raised his hand and pointed at the pile of dolls.

Yvonne Lowell stepped forward to look. Aside from the last one that had been completely destroyed, the others were perfect one-to-one re-creations of the scenes in the photos she had just seen.

Her gaze lingered for a few seconds on the ashtray on the table before she asked, feigning casualness,

"Dad, was there anything else in the box besides these?"

"Isn’t this enough?! Are you trying to scare your old man to death?!" Charles Lowell shot her an irritated glare.

"No, I’m just asking because the Grant Family and Leo also received threatening letters today."

Yvonne Lowell picked up one of the dolls and twisted its backward-bent elbow back into place.