As the butler deliberated on the best response to appease Asher, a man hurriedly approached from the side, clutching a smartphone. "Young Master, it's the Boss on the phone."

Asher's pupils shrank, his breath coming in strained gasps. He swallowed hard, his hand trembling as he picked up the incessantly vibrating phone. The second he pressed the answer button, Oliver's furious roar blasted clearly into everyone's ears. "You bloody fool! What have you done?"

"I, I, I just wanted to capture Vivienne back. Dad, I..."

A man in his thirties, Asher believed he hadn't felt this cloak of fear enveloping his heart since reaching adulthood, leaving him stammering, devoid of any spirit to fight back. Even guilt crept in. "Capture Vivienne, huh? Great, just great..." Oliver was panting heavily over the phone, and faintly, the soothing voice of a woman could be heard.

The sound of porcelain shattering clattered in his ears, and it was about five minutes later that Oliver, through gritted teeth and with venom in his voice, said, "Asher, have you lost your damn mind? A girl with no title, no status, and you're squabbling with her? You, get your ass back here now! Look at the mess you've made; how did I ever sire such a disappointment?"

Asher's heart skipped a beat. "Dad, what on earth happened? What did Vivienne do?"

"What did she do?" Oliver scoffed. "The Grimshaw family crypt has been desecrated, you tell me what happened? Asher, I'm telling you! You better pray your mother's urn can be found. Otherwise, forget about being the heir to this family!"

A chill ran through Asher.

Found?

Where could he possibly search?

The sound of the white porcelain urn shattering seemed to echo once again in his ears.

settling dust, he remembered staring at the fragments scattered on the

him at that moment had

a throbbing pain shot through him, unsure which part was

had viciously stomped on every patch of white. Even now, the soles of his shoes bore the residue of those

supposed to bring the broken pieces

his vision darkening, his

then close, finally settling on the ominous

he snapped back from fear, "What's the use of blaming me? Vivienne is the thief, Dad! Instead of lecturing

course, even if she were found, the chances

ground, his hands at his sides shaking uncontrollably, "Dad, I was just worried Gavin would be duped by Vivienne; that's why I followed. I truly had

need you to

crack sounded

something to say, speak up. You're about

was soothing

but tremble, feeling that if he were in front of

seriously doubt your mother had any brains left when she had you! How did she manage to

He only

family over a deceased relative. Yet the thought

Vivienne!

vindictive little creature

provocation of the Grimshaw

worse, he couldn't find

have happened

stuttered without finding words to refute. Or rather, he didn't dare

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