"What kind of stray mutt thinks it can bark at the Carmichael family's door?" Weston's voice rang out before he even appeared.
He'd just finished fishing and was heading home when he spotted his granddaughter being blocked at their gate by members of the Iverson family—clearly, they were giving her trouble.
Weston's expression immediately darkened.
After these past months, his fondness for Citrine had only grown. He was blatantly biased now, unable to stand seeing her bullied.
Not that he ever liked the Iversons to begin with. Holbrook Iverson had always been an arrogant man, impossible to tolerate when he was young. After his spectacular downfall—practically bankrupting Iverson Enterprises—his son Sawyer managed to single-handedly rebuild the family business. Admirable, perhaps, but in recent years, Sawyer's behavior had become increasingly erratic, surpassing even his father's in arrogance.
At Weston's words, a shadow flickered in Sawyer's eyes, but he quickly recovered, wearing his signature, insincere smile. "Weston, we're here for a friendly visit, but your butler said you weren't home and left us waiting outside."
Sawyer was a natural at polite small talk, but Weston wasn't buying it—he had no patience for empty courtesies.
"I gave the order myself. No Iversons—man or beast—are allowed inside." Weston snorted, making no effort to hide his disdain for Sawyer's phony charm.
Sawyer's smile froze awkwardly on his face.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to continue. "Weston, I came for an important reason. My father is ill—and he needs the medicine that Citrine has."
It was clear Sawyer hoped Weston would pressure Citrine into complying.
Weston saw right through them. He gave Sawyer and his companion a chilly look and sneered, "Citrine can make her own decisions. And if your father's sick, take him to a hospital. The nerve of you, coming to a child and begging for medicine—have you no shame at all?"
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