Chapter 396

Adrian Valentine's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Grandmother's intelligence network is truly impressive."

"The news has spread everywhere. How could I not know? Your mother has finally met her downfall after all these years of arrogance. She's only been able to act so high and mighty because she bore two sons and that useless daughter."

"I've pondered this for years. Gregory doesn't resemble your father at all. Cassandra is far more beautiful than your mother ever was."

"You're the only one who truly takes after your father. Adrian, I'm telling you this because you've proven yourself capable."

A flicker of understanding passed through Adrian's eyes. The implication was crystal clear now.

He'd long suspected Cassandra wasn't Margaret's biological daughter.

He'd chosen silence. That woman was venomous and selfish.

The irony? She remained oblivious to the truth.

Margaret had deliberately raised her to be incompetent.

Beatrice Valentine's smile deepened. "I consulted a fortune teller. This time, I will have justice for my son."

Warmth spread through Adrian's chest. His grandmother had carried this burden alone for so long. "Let me handle this, Grandmother."

"No." Her tone turned razor-sharp.

"You can't do it, Adrian. You've fallen for Vincent Langley's daughter. Your emotions will cloud your judgment. Vincent worked with your father. I've been waiting for you to uncover the truth."

"Choose carefully. If you insist on marrying Isabella, I'll avenge your father myself. That's why I summoned you today."

Adrian's breath hitched. "You've been having me followed?"

"Hmph! My only purpose in life is to uncover how my son died. He was my pride and joy. I've always suspected Vincent, but he covers his tracks too well."

"That's why I didn't stop you from pursuing Isabella and driving Evelyn away. You never deserved someone as exceptional as her anyway."

Adrian remained silent.

"If you knew, why didn't you—"

"Warn you sooner?"

Ice glinted in Adrian's eyes.

"Exactly."

Beatrice gave a cold laugh. "Why would I interfere with the perfect opportunity to get close to Vincent? Making you suspect him, encouraging you to pursue Isabella—it was all part of my plan."

"Don't blame me, Adrian. Avenging your father gives my life meaning. I've known about Vincent and your mother's affair for years. They're the ones who killed your father."

"What?" Adrian's pupils constricted violently.

Now he understood why his grandmother had always claimed a Valentine was responsible, yet refused to name names.

She'd known all along.

Last year when Margaret framed Evelyn, Beatrice had seized the chance to transfer shares to him.

Every move had been calculated.

Adrian felt no resentment—only aching sorrow for his grandmother's decades of silent suffering.

"Your mother and Vincent were lovers in their youth. Our maid Martha witnessed their affair. Vincent had her killed."

"You were just a child then. I had to bide my time until you were old enough to seek justice for Martha."

"Even when your mother called you a curse, accused you of murder, I had to stand by. At least alive, you'd have your chance at vengeance."

"Choose wisely, Adrian. If you pick love, I'll deal with Vincent myself. Your hands need not be stained."

"Grandmother, I want to avenge Father myself."

His answer satisfied her.

"Good. Should you fail, I'll step in."

Even in her advanced years, Beatrice Valentine retained the ruthless decisiveness that had made her a formidable businesswoman in her prime.