Chapter 251 Meeting Up
He had served as a butler for the Fleming family for decades, deeply understanding the importance of
the man in front of him.
Although Magnus was an illegitimate child, the entire Fleming family was his in the future.
Magnus looked at the tall hotel building, squinted slightly, and fell into deep thought.
He had never thought that he would see Tristen again in his lifetime.
***
Claudia returned to the Johnson family and saw Horace.
He was having a great conversation with the Johnson family, especially Dalton, who seemed quite
pleased with him. Meanwhile, Arianna and Sienna sat nearby, listening intently.
From a distance, Claudia watched Horace speak eloquently, and as she thought about what Magnus
had said, the questions in her heart gradually magnified.
âSeraphina!â Horace stood up, walking over quickly with a smile.
Chapter 251 Meeting Up
âYou finally came back. If you didnât, Mr. Ferguson might have been so anxious that heâd call the
police,â Arianna joked, covering her mouth.
Claudia looked at Horace, with his innocent, harmless, and refined demeanor, thinking about his help to
Tristen, her expression somewhat indifferent.
Horace asked softly, âTomorrow is a friendâs birthday, and he specifically asked for you to come to his
party with me. If youâre free, could youâ¦â
The words that followed were not dared to be asked.
Although everyone had assumed his relationship with Seraphina, he knew that the person in front of
him had never acknowledged this relationship from beginning to end.
Claudia didnât speak.
Horace forced a smile, âIf youâre busy, you donât have to go.â
Claudia nodded in agreement with his words, âOkay.â
Horace had helped Tristen, and she couldnât help but care.
Edmond was her ex-husband, and more importantly, the father of her child. Even though she and
Edmond had parted ways, she didnât want anyone to slander him.
Feeling her aloofness, a hint of embarrassment seeped through Horaceâs narrow charming eyes. He
sighed softly, âSeraphina, do you have any misunderstandings about me?â
Claudia paused slightly, her head lowered, thinking about his relationship with Tristen. She took a deep
breath and asked, âDo you know Tristen?â
Vencumfield Hotel.
Having seen off Claudia, Tristen sat down smugly to enjoy a delicious breakfast.
He dared to say those words because Edmond was already dead, with no one to refute him. Unless
Edmond came back to life to expose him, he could blame anything on Edmond.
Thinking of the little brother who had always played behind him since childhood, Tristenâs eyes and
brows turned cold.
âBrother, you must understand me from beneath the nine springs.â
If he hadnât done so, he wouldnât have been able to regain his identity, let alone explain his
resurrection.
Only by pinning the crime on Edmond could he legitimately reclaim
his identity as the young master of the Lamont family. Just at that moment, the sound of knocking on
the door rang out. Tristen looked up in confusion. Claudia had already left, could she have come back
again? He walked to the door, looked outside through the peephole, but only. saw pitch black. Outside
the door, the butler of the Fleming family covered the peephole, while Magnus next to him took off his
mask and casually lit a cigarette. âWho is it?â Tristen asked. The butler said with a smile, âSomeone
ordered takeout for you.â Takeout? Tristen opened the door, the light from the hallway streamed in,
stinging his eyes.
The man outside the door was handsome, with eyes as deep as the sea, a high and chiseled nose, and
a long coat as black as ink, highlighting his extraordinary nobility.
Upon seeing him, Tristenâs pupils dilated sharply. âEdmond?!â Terror swept over his entire body,
Tristenâs heartbeat accelerated, his lips turned pale. He instinctively wanted to flee, but his feet felt as if
they were nailed down, unable to move. âLong time no see,â Edmondâs tone was indifferent, âTristen, so
youâre still alive.â Tristen gritted his teeth, shuddering all over. He tried hard to suppress the terror in his
heart, his face full of disbelief: âWhy⦠werenât you dead? How are you still alive!â Terror and anger
gnawed at his every cell like insects. A little devil in the heart was roaring in anger. How could it be,
how could Edmond possibly still be alive! âYouâre not dead yet, how dare I leave first.â Edmondâs voice
was sc attered, yet it carried a magnetic and deep deterrent power. With a loud rumble, a buzzing
sound echoed in Tristenâs head, as if countless mosquitoes were circling around his ears.
Thinking of what he had said at the press conference, Tristenâs heart pounded wildly, his face hot and
flushed, he stammered in explanation, âAt the press conference⦠Lâ¦â His throat felt as if it was being
choked, at that moment, he didnât know how to explain. He thought Edmond was dead, beyond any
doubt, and his word was law. But he never, ever expected that his dear brother was actually not dead!
âTristen.â Edmond lowered his voice, his eyes cold and clear, âYou risked your life to save me back
then, and I was very grateful. Iâve been atoning all these years. Youâre clearly alive, why didnât you
come to find me?â After Tristen had died, Rosalie suddenly produced a will, claiming it was written by
Tristen.
The writing above was indeed Tristenâs, complete with a handprint. He had no doubt about it. All these
years, he had indulged Rosalie everywhere, all to fulfill his brotherâs last wish.
But he could never have imagined that his brother was actually still aliveâ¦
âThat suicide note was written by you afterwards, wasnât it?â
Tristen turned around and took out a bottle of wine, slowly pouring it into a glass and handing it to him,
his gaze intense: âSit down and
talk.â
âThat fire, it was arsonâ¦â Tristen paused as he said this.
Thinking of the hard times over the years, Tristenâs eyes instantly turned bloodshot with anger:
âEdmond, I risked my life to save you, you owe me a life.â
âI donât want you to repay this life, but I want you to promise me one thing.â
Edmondâs face fell, his voice h oa rse. âWhatâs the matter?â
âI want to be the one in charge of the Lamont Group.â Tristenâs gaze was soft yet dark, his tone full of
arrogance. âYouâve been the president of the Lamont Group for so many years, itâs time to give me
back whatâs mine.â
Tristenâs cold words, like a sharp blade, tore off the masks of the two.
âMy words have already been spoken at the press conference, consider it as a repayment for the favor
I did you back then. Donât ask about the specific reasons anymore.â He looked at Edmond indifferently,
âYouâve already killed me once, surely you donât want to do it again?â
âSince youâre already dead, donât live anymore.â
Tristenâs voice was low, each word like an icy dagger.
A few simple words had struck a chord in Edmondâs heart.
The brother he admired the most, the brother he respected the most, had completely changed.
âIf I didnât choose to die on my own, would you have tried every possible way to kill me?â
Tristenâs face stiffened, quickly denying, âNo.â
Edmond had his eyes lowered, not exposing his lie.
âEdmond wouldnât come back to life.â
He gave Tristen a satisfactory answer.
Tristen quietly exhaled.
Edmond said again. âBut donât think about taking control of the Lamont Group. Donât forget how our
father died.â
Upon hearing this, Tristen shuddered, his face turning deathly pale.