Lambert first raised an eyebrow.
Then he cast a sidelong glance at his daughter. Generally speaking, the only thing that could have infuriated Ariana this much was if something had happened to the child.
Sure enough, he spotted a faint red mark on the little girl’s neck.
In that instant, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
With a chillingly calm tone that betrayed no emotion, he turned to the nanny and asked, “What happened?”
By now, the nanny was practically trembling in fear. Her legs threatened to give way beneath her, knowing that if her explanation fell short, losing her job would be the least of her worries. Gritting her teeth, she replied, “I—I apologize. The mark on the young miss’s neck was indeed caused by my carelessness. I failed to watch over her properly.” She hesitated briefly before recounting the incident exactly as it had happened, leaving out no detail for Ariana and Lambert. Deep down, she knew it wouldn’t change anything.
But at the very least, she wouldn’t be accused of harming the baby.
If she were wrongly blamed…
Not only would her career be over, but she might also face retribution from the future head of the Stone family. That would be nothing short of disastrous.
After listening to the nanny’s explanation, Ariana paused, then turned her gaze toward their two sons.
By now, Carson was genuinely frightened.
Lucian bit his lip before finally speaking up. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad. It was me.” After a brief hesitation, he decided to take responsibility.
Lambert let out a cold laugh. “Oh? And what exactly did you do?”
The question caught Lucian off guard. His face flushed red as he stammered, unsure how to respond. After all, he was only five years old. Though he wanted to protect his younger brother, he couldn’t quite articulate a proper explanation.
"Think covering for him is doing him any good? What if he kills someone next time? Will you take the blame for that, too?" Lambert's voice was icy, devoid of warmth.
Lucian paled, his eyes reddening as he shook his head desperately.
A pang of sorrow gripped him—terrified his father might misunderstand. Yet words failed him, choking back any explanation. The fear of disappointing his dad loomed large.
Lambert’s gaze shifted from his eldest son to the younger one cowering behind Lucian, his face ghostly white. His tone was flat, razor-sharp: "Get out of here."
Carson’s breath hitched, tears threatening to spill.
Instinctively, he glanced at his mother, only to catch a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes before she looked away, her attention settling on that *demon* of a sister. The sight twisted something inside him. Jealousy, hot and bitter, surged. Before he could stop himself, he blurted defiantly, "So what if I did it? I hate her! I don’t want her here!"
Normally, Carson would never dare lash out like this—not under his father’s watchful glare, no matter how much he despised the girl.
But years of pent-up resentment had boiled over, leaving no room for restraint.
His eyes burned, tears pooling yet refusing to fall, defiance etched into every tense line of his small frame.
Lambert’s response was a laugh.

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