Chapter 1072

“If you truly seek to quench your hatred through the death of an individual, let it be me. Spare my wife

and daughter from your vendetta. I acknowledge my role as Mavis’ father, and I shall bear the

consequences on her behalf.”

Holden comprehended that Mavis had severed their ties in order to shield the Smith family from harm.

She was resolute in preventing any harm befalling the Smith family due to her actions.

Seated upright, Holden’s eyes sealed shut, a quiet acceptance descending upon him.

Their hands were tied when it came to confronting Harlan. The Curtis family’s clandestine aristocratic

lineage had thrived for centuries, fortified by a formidable foundation. The bitter truth that eluded

Holden was the unforeseen downfall of the Smith family, an enterprise he had tirelessly nurtured.

Within the hall, the servants remained frozen, gripped by fear.

Harlan’s gaze narrowed, and his initial perception altered. The Smiths exhibited resilience, and Mrs.

Smith’s collapse appeared unfeigned. The fact that Mavis had truly departed the Smith family weighed

on him.

“Mr. Smith, such measures are unnecessary. I refrain from slaying the innocent. Moreover, parents

cannot bear retribution for the transgressions of their offspring. Since Miss Smith is absent, I shall

depart.”

Harlan holstered his weapon and began to make his exit.

However, just as he reached the gate, he overheard two servants concealed amidst the foliage, their

conversation laden with nervousness.

“Why would Miss Smith fall for such a fiend? He’s beyond malevolence.”

Upon hearing these words, Harlan inhaled deeply, his countenance a canvas of contemplation. He was

perennially associated with the label of a devil, perceived as a figure devoid of warmth and

compassion.

The night had grown late, and he had no intention of rousing the household; otherwise, he might have

been compelled to take more drastic measures, even against the two trembling men.

“Yes, twenty lashes. Despite enduring such agony, her heart remained devoted to that man.”

Righteous indignation animated one of them.

“Miss Smith professed he was her ‘Mr. Right,’ yet I dare say he is naught but a malevolent devil.”

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“I’m genuinely perplexed by her thoughts. She articulated that making a cold-hearted, merciless man

fall in love with her would constitute the epitome of bliss. She held the belief that his affection would

render him pliant and devoted, willing to undertake any feat for her sake.”

“Yes, I overheard her claiming she’d rather endure violation than divulge a single word to the

gangsters. I’m haunted by curiosity regarding the nature of the secret that propelled her to forsake her

own honor. She even professed that, despite such horrors, his affection would remain steadfast as long

as she didn’t betray him.

However, uttering an errant word would condemn her to irrevocable unforgiveness. Goodness, it’s a

staggering level of foolishness! She ought never to barter her safety for a man’s love.”

“Ah!”

The servants were on the verge of emerging from their hiding spot, only to be confronted by the very

subject of their discourse, the man they considered a devil. Their fright materialized into desperate

supplication.

Kneeling in abject submission, they implored for clemency.

“We’re sorry. We beseech your clemency. Spare us, we implore.”

“Please have mercy.”

Kneeling, they lowered their heads, encountering Harlan’s polished shoes.