Ms. Escape Marrying to Run Fighting to Rise novel Chapter 170

Chapter 170 His Disdain

Finished

Curtis’s expression didn’t change. “I was on my honeymoon with my wife. You’re telling me you dragged me all the way back here for this?”

He dropped into the chair with a lazy motion, grabbed the golden horse statue off Harold’s desk, and started spinning it between his fingers.

Harold snatched it from him, his jaw tight. He knew Curtis could crush it without thinking

twice.

“Your father called me yesterday,” Harold said.

Curtis stayed quiet, his eyes cold.

Harold sighed. “He might be in trouble. It’s been years since he left. He’s still your father.

His voice carried a trace of softness that hadn’t been there before.

Age had worn away his fire.

Michael hadn’t come home in decades. For him to reach out now–it meant something. And Harold wasn’t as mad anymore.

Curtis leaned back, his fingers tapping against the armrest. “I get it. You’re a father. You care about

your son. But everything the Lincolns have now? I earned it. You don’t get to give him my money.”

Harold frowned. “You’re being ridiculous. He’s still family.”

He didn’t need Curtis’s money to help Michael. He had enough of his own. But hearing Curtis speak that way made his chest tighten.

Curtis’s mouth twisted into a cold smirk. “That man destroyed someone’s life. Her life. He walked out with nothing, bragging he didn’t need a dime. Now he’s back, begging for help?” He had nothing but disdain for that man. His voice dropped lower, colder. “He made his choice. He can live with it.”

Curtis stood in silence for a few seconds before rising to his feet. “Grandpa, I’m doing better than he ever did. If I ever decide to walk away from the Lincolns, I’ll never come crawling back

like he did.”

Harold’s heart sank. He knew Curtis wasn’t bluffing.

He had raised that boy. He knew that tone. It wasn’t defiance. It was a promise.

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Chapter 170 His Disdain

Curtis’s words were clear. If Michael came back, he would leave.

Finished

Harold stared at him, the weight of years pressing on his chest. Curtis wasn’t that reckless kid anymore. He had grown colder, sharper. If Michael hadn’t run when he did, Curtis might have finished him off.

“I’m not asking you to let him come home,” Harold said finally, his voice low. “He called me. He’s in trouble. He’s in Haldoria now. He’s got another family. A son. The boy’s 19. Curtis, that kid didn’t do anything wrong.”

Harold, you’ve gone senile.

But that boy is also your grandson, yes.

Curtis‘ chest burned like someone had reached in and twisted it.

The pain was deep, locked inside, where no one could touch it.

“Do whatever you want,” he said coldly. His hand twitched against the armrest, his fingertips going numb. “I don’t care.”

If Harold had wanted peace, he should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“Curtis,” Harold said softly, “it’s been years. You still can’t forgive him?”

Curtis let out a laugh, short and sharp.

“Forgive him?” His voice turned hard.

“He doesn’t deserve that word.”

He turned toward the door. “We’re done. If you don’t have anything else, I’m leaving.”

Harold didn’t stop him right away. But as Curtis reached the door, he said, “At least see him. Give him some money. That’s all I ask.’

Curtis’s laugh was cold.

He knew exactly who Michael was. If he’d reached out after all these years, it wasn’t for money. Not just money.

He’s coming with a plan.

“When he ran from the Lincolns, the company was collapsing,” Curtis said, his voice dark. “We were drowning in debt. Billions of dollars. He didn’t walk away because of pride. He ran because he was scared. Because he didn’t want to face what he caused.” He lifted his gaze, the anger burning clear in his eyes. “A man with no courage, no talent, and no honor doesn’t get to

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Chapter 170 His Disdain

come back pretending none of it happened.”

His breath came faster.

99

Finished

It had been years since rage had hit him like this, heavy and suffocating. His pulse hammered in his ears. His hands trembled, every muscle coiled tight.

He tried to calm down. He wanted to stay still. But his body refused to obey.

“The Lincolns and the Lincoln Group wouldn’t even exist today without the Bartons. Without me,” Curtis said, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. “Every piece of this empire came from my hands.”

The words hung heavy in the room, cruel but true.

He was the one who had filled the holes, who had rebuilt what was left of the Lincolns‘ wreckage. He was the one who’d dragged the Lincoln Group from ashes and forced it back to life.

And now that man wanted to stroll back in and enjoy what he’d sweated blood to create?

“He’s your father!” Harold barked, his palm slamming against the desk so hard the sound shook

the room.

Curtis gave a bitter laugh. He didn’t argue.

He knew the old man’s heart wasn’t strong enough for a fight.

That disastrous marriage years ago had been Harold’s doing. And Curtis–his whole life—was just the result of that mistake.

Sure, Michael had wanted out. The Lincolns were suffocating.

But now he wanted back in? Not while Curtis still breathed.

“As long as I’m here,” Curtis said coldly, locking eyes with Harold, “he’s not coming back.”

“This family doesn’t revolve around you!” Harold shouted again, his hand striking the desk one more time.

Curtis didn’t move. He could see it clearly now in Harold’s expression.

The man wasn’t testing him. He’d already made his decision. He wanted Michael—and that shiny new family of his–back under the Lincoln roof.

The thought burned through Curtis’s chest like acid. His throat tightened, and each breath felt