Larissa's Game of Thrones (Larissa) novel Chapter 387

“What do you think you’re doing? Get out of my way,” Thatch snarled, his face contorted with rage. “I’m in a foul mood today, so you’d better move before I make you regret it.”

The two bodyguards stood like twin towers, unmoving. Thatch, a large and imposing man himself, found his own presence completely overshadowed. It was bizarre. He was the master of this house, yet he was being intimidated by his own staff.

Without a word, the bodyguards exchanged a look and moved in perfect sync.

Simultaneously, two fists slammed into Thatch’s handsome, middle-aged face. He staggered back, clutching his nose.

“You traitors! How dare you strike me—”

Before he could finish his tirade, two more punches landed squarely on his face, sending him crashing to the ground. The bodyguards then dragged him into a secluded corner just outside the estate walls.

A few moments later, the sounds of muffled blows and choked cries of pain echoed from the shadows.

...

In the study of the Palmer mansion, Haskell was playing chess with Zoltan.

Zoltan stared at the board, his pieces clearly at a disadvantage.

“How did things go at the Judson estate today?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Haskell smiled faintly. “Larissa has officially taken control.”

Zoltan let out a grunt of approval and, after a moment’s thought, placed a piece on the board. “That girl has more sense than Paxton’s entire family combined. If I were Kiernan Judson, I’d have given the family to her as well.” He paused. “If I hadn’t met her myself, I never would have believed a girl in her early twenties could manage a family of that stature.”

“Let go of me! I need to see my father!”

Zoltan made a move to stand, and the butler at his side immediately stepped forward to assist him.

“Haskell,” Zoltan said, his voice firm, “the Palmer family is now in your hands. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

He had considered his other grandsons. Tobias’s son, Solomon, had courage and ambition, but his methods were brutish, following the same path the Lincolns had once taken—a path they were now desperately trying to leave behind.

Trevor’s son, Fraser, was cunning and patient, a decent manager of people, but he lacked a grand vision.

His decision to delay the announcement was not, as outsiders believed, a sign of him abandoning Haskell. It was a test. He wanted the rest of the family to see for themselves exactly how they were being outmaneuvered by the man they had dismissed as a useless cripple. He wanted them to be utterly and completely defeated, leaving no room for doubt as to who was the rightful heir.