Chapter 165:
Rage consumed Darren so completely that words failed him. His chest heaved, body trembling with impotent fury as he glared at Bill—a combustible mixture of humiliation and anger.
Bill’s smirk dripped with pure disdain as he realized Darren was nothing more than a pitiful, transparent creature—unable to counter the razor-sharp verbal assault, yet audacious enough to have previously slandered Elena.
Darren wrestled to contain his mounting rage. But he knew now was not the time to argue with Bill. He would teach Bill a lesson someday. The important thing was Malcolm’s opinion.
Darren shifted his gaze to Malcolm, only to be met with eyes as cold and cutting as midwinter steel. A bone-deep sense of foreboding crawled down his spine.
Malcolm spoke, his words precise and merciless. “Bill’s critique was incomplete. Beyond a urological examination, a comprehensive mental health evaluation seems equally prudent.”
Malcolm continued, each syllable calculated to inflict maximum damage, “I’ve heard the Griffiths are Foiclens’ most prominent family. Your grandfather is a man of considerable reputation. How tragically you’ve squandered such distinguished lineage. Perhaps it’s time for a change—the richest family in Foiclens.”
Darren looked up, shock fracturing his composure. What did Malcolm mean by that?
In his confusion, Darren could only think of the Spencer family. “Mr. Johnson, the Griffiths family and the Spencer family are collaborating. You can’t—”
“I can’t?” Malcolm interrupted Darren. If his hands were tied, Wesley would eagerly step forward. If Wesley discovered how his people were being publicly humiliated, his retribution would be exponentially more brutal.
“Elena, what do you think?” Malcolm asked.
Elena had underestimated Darren’s profound shamelessness. She spoke with glacial composure. “Mr. Johnson, whatever course of action you choose is beyond contestation. A mere ‘richest family in Foiclens’ isn’t even worthy of your consideration.”
Malcolm had heard countless flattery before, but this felt startlingly unique—especially delivered with her beautiful, utterly indifferent face.
“I cannot dictate the collaboration between the Griffiths and Spencer families, but you can,” Malcolm said. Wesley would never heed his direct intervention. These words were a calculated probe, designed to test Elena’s subtle influence over Wesley.
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Elena, without granting Malcolm a glance, responded coolly, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
At her deliberate deflection, Malcolm didn’t press further. “While I cannot make decisions for the Spencer family, I am fully empowered elsewhere. I’ve recently invested in the renovation and upgrade project of the older parts of Foiclens. The terms are simple: everyone except the Griffiths family may participate.”
The moment Malcolm finished speaking, Darren’s complexion drained of color. His lips parted slightly. “Mr. Johnson…”
Malcolm maintained his usual gentle expression. Smiling while dealing with people was his style.
Unlike Wesley and Jeffry, whose presence alone inspired intimidation, Malcolm was different. His soft, inviting smile put people at ease. Those unfamiliar with his true nature often mistook his kindness for patience. But assuming he was truly easygoing would be a grave error.
