Chapter 7
In the afternoon, Kingsley visited the prison.
Partly because Harland insisted on seeing him, and partly because a debt from seven years ago was due for a final accounting.
Through the glass of the visitation room, the moment Harland saw him, his eyes lit up like a sudden flare. He forced a fawning smile, his voice urgent. “Kingsley, you finally came p>
Kingsley didn’t respond immediately. His lips were set in a line of frost as he cut straight to the chase. “You want out p>
Harland nodded furiously, terrified that a second’s delay would cost him his chance at salvation. “Kingsley, I was framed! Get me the best lawyer-we can definitely overturn this p>
Kingsley took a file from his assistant, Shane, pressed it against the glass, and slid it into Harland’s view. “Do you remember this? Zane Mason. That name doesn’t sound unfamiliar, does it p>
Harland’s face drained of blood instantly. His pupils constricted, and his voice trembled. “Wh-what is he to you p>
“A sworn friend of the Sherwood family p>
Kingsley’s gaze was a sharp blade, pinning Harland down, his eyes revealing a ruthless edge. “You got three lives on your hands. What makes you think you’re ever getting out p>
The chill from the other side of the glass seemed to seep through. Harland’s panic was now plain to see, his words spilling out in a jumble. “Kingsley, you’ve got it all wrong! It’s not what you think! Zane broke his word; he wanted to swallow the project whole p>
Kingsley watched in silence, his eyes devoid of any ripple of emotion.
Seeing his indifference, Harland panicked completely. But this was his only lifeline. “Kingsley, for Lucy’s sake, help me this one time! I am her father, after all p>
A cold, derisive smile played on Kingsley’s lips. “You’re giving yourself too much credit. And you’re giving her far more than she deserves p>
He checked his watch, stood up, and leaned slightly toward the intercom. Every word hit like it was striking iron-crisp and cold. “Harland, I was the one who handed all the evidence to the police. Did. you really think would save you?
Harland’s head buzzed as if struck by a heavy hammer.
The moment he processed it, he slammed his hand against the glass, screaming, “Kingsley! Just you waitt Lucy will definitely divorce you! You will get what you deserve p>
Kingsley didn’t pause for a second, walking straight out of the visitation room.
Behind him, Harland collapsed in the chair, screaming in a breakdown. Guards rushed in, quickly restraining him.
The moment Kingsley stepped out of the police station, his phone rang. The screen displayed “Grandmother p>
“Kingsley,” old Mrs. Sherwood’s kind voice came through, tinged with expectation. “Bring Lucy home for dinner tonight, will you? I haven’t been able to reach her p>
Kingsley’s expression was calm, his tone giving nothing away. “She’s traveling abroad. Next time p>
“Oh… abroad,” the old lady muttered, sounding disappointed. “Just a few days ago she said she’d accompany me to the Opera this weekend p>
“She doesn’t understand the Opera. I’ll ask my brother to take you,” Kingsley replied indifferently.
“Your brother? He’s so busy his feet barely touch the ground; we never see him recently. He has no time,” the old lady sighed, gently a hint of resignation in her voice. “It’s not necessarily a good thing when children are too successful. It’s hard to even get the family together for a meal p>
“I have a call coming in,” Kingsley said. “When she returns, we’ll come visit you together p>
Hanging up, he took out a cigar. His thumb flicked the metal lighter, and with a sharp *clink*, a blue flame sprang to life.