Cyrus scanned York's disheveled state from head to toe, and he let out a low, mocking chuckle ambiguous chuckle.
"You could have wrapped this up earlier," York said, his tone icy. "But you had to wait for Claudia to run out and shield you. Now I have two knife wounds to show for it."
He added, "You're my uncle. What good does it do you to see me get hurt?"
Cyrus's handsome, chiseled features twisted into a wicked grin. "How else were you supposed to learn your lesson?"
York's already dark expression grew even stormier.
Cyrus toyed with a cross bracelet, the beads clicking softly. "You should be thanking me. Otherwise, how could you be resting so comfortably in a hospital room? Brought in by your ex-wife, no less."
The words "ex-wife" grated on York's ears.
His gaze locked on Cyrus. "If you want to bait your enemy to Rhoderia and turn your own home into a trap, that's your call," he said, each word sharp and deliberate. "But Claudia stays clear of it completely."
Cyrus's expression turned serious. "How did you get there so quickly last night?"
The two men locked eyes for a moment before York subtly looked away.
"This is Capital City," he replied dismissively. "I was able to trap your rival on the outskirts and hold him until your men arrived. Do you really think it's difficult for me to know when Claudia is in danger at Grant Manor?"
Cyrus didn't press the issue.
He changed the subject. "Your grandfather came to Grant Manor this morning, raising hell. He and my grandfather got into a shouting match that nearly blew the roof off."
"At the end of the day, you getting hurt is on me," Cyrus continued. "I'll cover all the medical expenses and compensation."

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