Love's Cunning Ruse novel Chapter 325

The Cardinal Hotel.

Rowan had just hung up the phone when his lean fingers grazed the crystal-clear water glass, infused with a hint of mint, subtle but refreshing. As he brought the glass closer to his nose, the sound of Kleist's voice interrupted the moment from the doorway.

"Come in."

Kleist stood in front of Rowan with a slight frown, "Master, your brother is here."

"What's he here for?" Rowan scoffed lightly, muttering under his breath, "Must be bored out of his mind."

With a wave of his hand, Rowan signaled for Kleist to let his brother in.

As the door swung open, Kleist didn't stop Curtis from entering the room alongside Kyle; after all, the young master hadn't specifically instructed otherwise. Curtis followed Kyle, ready to intervene at a moment's notice, should Kyle's temper flare—which it invariably did whenever Sansa was involved.

"Can't wait for me to have Grace haul you back?" Rowan nodded to Kleist.

Kleist poured a glass of mint water and extended it towards Kyle.

Kyle didn't take it, knowing full well that if Rowan called Grace, she would come without hesitation to take him back to the States, as she was far more adept at playing the game than he was. She knew that now Rowan was the true heir, the one who would one day wield the power, significantly more than they ever could. Offending the eldest was out of the question.

After all, to stay within the family's good graces, even he, several years Rowan's senior, had to respectfully address Rowan as 'brother'.

But the matter at hand involved Sansa, and he was determined to seek justice.

"DUI?" Kyle seized the moment when Kleist awkwardly placed the water glass back on the table, stepping forward to grab Rowan's collar, radiating an aura of fury. His eyes, bloodshot, gave him the look of a man who'd crawled straight out of hell.

Gripping Rowan's collar, the bespectacled man, without contact lenses, looked even more inscrutable, "What's your deal with Sansa? Why are you hell-bent on destroying her?"

As expected, Kyle had only one reason to confront him.

Kleist moved to intervene, but Rowan's glance stopped him. With no move from Kleist, Curtis naturally stayed put as well.

In an instant, Rowan seized Kyle's wrist, twisting it behind his back, and with the other hand pressed down on his neck, forcing Kyle onto the glass coffee table.

Curtis immediately stepped forward, only to be blocked by Kleist.

As Kleist and Curtis stood tensely, Rowan casually asked Kyle, "Is it some misguided sense of love that brought you here to cause a scene?"

In terms of physical prowess, Kyle had to admit he was no match for Rowan, whose moves were always swift, fierce, and precise. But Kyle showed no sign of backing down, his face pressed against the cold glass of the coffee table, his purpose for being there burning in his mind.

"Professor Fred dies in a car crash, killed by a drunk driver. A DUI, huh? Coincidence, Simon?" Kyle's voice was laced with barely contained scorn and anger.

Rowan kept his grip on Kyle's arm, showing no sign of letting go, as Kyle felt his arm might dislocate at any moment.

The thought of the only person who might awaken Sansa fueled Kyle's rage.

"Are human lives so cheap to you? In your world, Rowan, is everyone's life worthless except your own?" Kyle bellowed, voicing his fury.

Rowan snorted and released Kyle, "Discussing the value of life with me?"

He elegantly sat on the sofa and took a sip of mint water, then his lips curved into a faint smile.

Kyle wasn't sure if it was the mint's fragrance that pleased Rowan or his own pointed questions. Whatever the case, Rowan now wore an expression that was anything but angry. It was...

Mocking, "Your life's only value, the sole reason Grace allowed you to be born, was to curry favor with Joseph. One must know their place."

"I didn't come here to discuss my life's worth. To you, Rowan, my life has always been insignificant, right? But Rowan, Fred was a distinguished medical professor, his contributions to awakening comatose patients..."