She wasn't afraid.
If she were alone, she might have been slightly intimidated by that old crone.
After all, Eleanor was completely unreasonable.
But now, she had Quentin.
And they were on her turf, in her garden villa.
Sometime ago, he had shown her the deed.
The entire estate, including the massive private lake, was a gift from him, registered solely in her name.
Madeline exchanged a glance with him, and they both understood.
As much as they despised the old witch, they still had to let her in.
The butler caught their silent agreement and ordered the security booth at the base of the hill to let her through.
A black stretch limousine rolled up the main driveway.
The vehicle smoothly parked in the designated area.
A small army of bodyguards stepped out to escort the elderly woman.
They carried her oversized wheelchair up the steps and into the living room.
The couple offered neither a warm welcome nor outright hostility.
Madeline simply prepared a cup of tea.
She set it in front of the older woman.
Her manners were impeccably flawless.
Eleanor took a slow sip.
Then, she finally spoke.
"Quentin, I heard you sent all your uncles and cousins to prison?"
When she had received the news,
She had been absolutely livid.
Every single one of those executives belonged to her side of the family.
Yet, at the same time, they weren't truly her relatives.
They were adopted kin, possessing no actual blood ties.
The matriarch's maiden name was Eleanor Lyall, the only daughter of a once-prominent wealthy family in the city. Her father had perished during a famous historical conflict.
Her mother had struggled immensely to raise her through the chaotic times.



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