Brittany was nonchalant, sipping her wine while Hannah, noticing her calm demeanor, wisely changed
the subject.
The Salter Villa.
Every member of the Salter family was gathered around.
Those who had previously treated Marcel and his mother with disdain were then rushing to curry favor
with them.
Grace Salter sat at the head of the table, her face ashen, as if that wasn’t a family feast but a tense
situation reminiscent of Caesar’s last supper.
After all those years, Leda was finally getting her moment in the sun.
When Isaac arrived, Leda didn’t even bother to make eye contact.
Seeing her, Isaac was filled with an intense fury. Before anyone else could react, he grabbed Leda,
threw her down on the ground, and started to slap her repeatedly.
Leda was in a lot of pain. Naturally, tears and snot streamed down her face.
“Isaac, let her go!” Marcel shouted, enraged. He hadn’t expected Isaac to attack.
Ignoring Marcel, Isaac glared at Leda, his eyes cold and menacing. “If you dare lay a finger on my son
again, I’ll have you join Manuel Salter in the grave!”
In pain, Leda shivered, not daring to make a sound.
Isaac kicked Leda aside. The other members of the Salter family remained silent, too afraid to
intervene.
Even without Grandeur Capital, Isaac was still the most influential man in the family.
Having lived under his power for so many years, they were still afraid of him even at that time.
Isaac walked over to the elderly Mrs. Salter. The person sitting next to her quickly got up, giving their
seat to Isaac.
Leda was helped up by a servant, still seething with resentment.
But one cold look from Isaac silenced her.
He then said, “Leda, that’s the second time.”
It was the second time she had hurt someone close to him.
Leda looked away, not daring to make a sound.
Marcel gripped his wheelchair tightly. His breaths came in short. “Isaac, you laying hands on my mother
in front of me; is this your idea of peaceful coexistence?”
“If you can remain indifferent after I beat your daughter until she’s bloody and throw her out the door,
then we can talk about coexistence.”
Marcel thought of his frail and sickly daughter, Nova, and fell silent.
“Enough.” The elderly Mrs. Salter, Grace, massaged her temples. “Let’s eat.”
The supposed family feast was nothing more than a small-scale social ladder.
At the dinner table, the extended family members were carefully trying to please Marcel, hoping to gain
some benefits from him.
All Isaac could do was watch with a derisive expression.
After three rounds of wine, Marcet said, “Mrs. Salter, I’m part of the Salter family now. When will you
give me the family registry? My parents should get married.”
For all those years, Leda had been without a proper title.
Grace smiled faintly. “Manuel has long since removed his name from the family registry. If you two want
to get married, I have no objections.”
However, if they were thinking of joining the Salter family, that was absolutely unacceptable.
“Mrs. Salter, you know that without your consent, my father will not agree to the marriage.”
In the Salter family, a marriage certificate meant nothing.
The Salter family had a family tree, a family shrine.
Only those who were recorded in the family tree were considered to be part of the Salter family.
Leda had always dreamed of joining the Salter family, and since her son had successfully risen to
power, she was even more eager.
But Grace whispered, “The only daughter-in-law recognized by the Salter family is not you, Leda.”
Grace stood up. “I’ve said what I needed to say. You all can take it from here. Zac, I’ve had enough to
eat. Take me back to my room.”
Isaac helped Grace up the stairs, leaving the dining room in silence.
One by one, everyone else made excuses and left.
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