Naturally, the other Turnbulls were less than friendly toward Frank. Other than Vicky, they all had looks of a constipated person whenever they glanced Frank's way.

He was a real piece of work, but they could neither snap at him nor chase him away.

Hurt him? They were still counting on him to cure George!

All they could do was to defame him in private, even blaming him for George's condition when he contracted it six months ago.

Frank did not care at all—it was the last day of treatment for George and the day of the Turnbulls’ annual dinner.

Starting from the morning, luxurious cars were driving into the Turnbull estate, with men and women striding in as they attended the prestigious banquet.

They were all family or regional executives, all of them embodying the might of the Turnbulls as one of the Four Families of Morhen. Naturally, Frank could see that not the entire family was gathered just yet.

At the center of the dazzling banquet hall, countless servants were hurrying around busily, lining the tables with exquisite dishes and countless glasses of expensive wine.

corner, watching as hundreds

backbone to the family empire—and it was always this grand

doing here?" Yonca Wells asked, striding over to Frank when

Frank chuckled in her face, unmoved. "What, do you

"Hmph."

her lips. "This is our family's annual dinner, and outsiders aren't allowed here. You're already done curing Mr. Turnbull too, so can't you go back to your pig sty

despite her insults and pointed at Titus who was chatting with

Frank a look of disdain. "He'll be family eventually. Who do you think you are compared to him? Don't you understand your place at

quietly. "All I

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