Chapter 501: Give Her Half the Inheritance
Ine second those words left Callan's mouth, Jamarion, who had seemed weak as a kitten, suddenly found a burst of strength and slapped him hard across the face.
"You want to know why I'm enemies with Harrison? It's because of you!" he roared.
Sure, that mess had been settled, but did Jamarion really think Harrison would just pretend it never happened? Sam was his best friend.
And Callan dared keep harassing Joyce.
If Jamarion hadn't finally put his foot down and locked Callan up, no one knew how far things would've gone.
After that slap, Jamarion collapsed back onto the couch, gasping for breath.
He hadn't held back. Callan's cheek was already swelling up.
Callan prodded his sore jaw with his tongue and then sneered, "Oh, so you're finally showing your true colors? What about all that talk about making it up to me? Did you forget about that?"
He knew Jamarion still felt guilty about the past, and that's why he'd always dared to push his luck.
What he didn't realize was that, after months of Callan's rebellion, Jamarion's guilt had already started to fade.
At first, after finally acknowledging Callan as his son, Jamarion had been desperate to make things right.
He'd have given Callan anything, done whatever he asked, and even risked angering the Thomsons and going up against the Juarez family.
But as time went on, and especially with Callan's constant defiance, that guilt just kept wearing thinner.
Now, Callan lived in luxury, surrounded by every comfort, and someday Jamarion would leave him half the estate, enough for several lifetimes.
What more could he possibly want?
Besides, Jamarion had recently learned the truth.
That woman with Harrison, Adeline, wasn't just anyone. She was the real heiress of Yewhaina's Mendoza family.
The power base of the Mendoza family was far away, but crossing them would still be a disaster.
Jamarion had tried to explain this to Callan, but Callan looked obsessed.
He only wanted Joyce.
Jamarion thought, "She's just an ordinary woman. What was so special about her?"
"Say something!" Callan snapped. "Need me to repeat my childhood trauma for you? Or..."
"Enough!" Jamarion cut him off sharply.
"You're my son. I know I failed you before," Jamarion's tired eyes stared straight at him, "but if you keep using that to threaten me, you'll get nothing from me."
Callan's heart skipped a beat, cold sweat prickling his back.
If Jamarion really stopped feeling guilty, then...
For a split second, something dark
flickered in his eyes, but he swallowed it down.
Jamarion might be old, but plenty of loyal men still served him. If Callan dared try anything, they wouldn't let it slide.
As Callan fell silent, Jamarion's voice softened a little.
"Callan, listen. You're my son. You want a woman? I'll have my people bring you a dozen beauties tomorrow..."
"No." Callan's fists clenched tight.
He didn't want any other women. He only wanted Joyce.
He didn't even realize just how twisted his obsession had become.
At first, maybe it really was love, but after everything that had happened, especially once Joyce and Sam became official, his so-called affection had turned warped and unhealthy.
Even if he got Joyce now, there was no guarantee he'd ever treat her right.
He just couldn't let go. He'd rather die
than give up.
Hearing his flat-out refusal, Jamarion then said,"Fine. Tomorrow I'll have the paperwork started to transfer you that plot of land in the east side.If you want to build something, go for it. I'll make it happen for you. Can't you see how good you have it? People would kill for your life. I'm not getting any younger. Once I'm gone, everything ! own will be split between you and Daphne, half each."
Callan had been lost in thoughts of Joyce, but Jamarion's words snapped him back.
"I'd have to split the inheritance with Daphne?" he thought.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Callan burst out. "Daphne's just a woman! And you're giving her half?"
Jamarion frowned. "You're both my children. Of course it's fair-half each."
He didn't get it. Did Callan really think like some old sexist, favoring sons over daughters?
It didn't matter. Half of his estate would always go to Daphne. No one could change that.
If he hadn't brought Callan back, Daphne would have inherited everything.
Callan had never paid much attention to Daphne before, but now, he realized she was a real threat.
And she was Sam's close friend, too.
A glint of cold malice flashed in his eyes.
Jamarion caught that look and his face turned instantly grim. "Don't you dare lay a finger on Daphne. I mean it. If I ever find out you hurt her, you're no son of mine."
Callan could tell Jamarion wasn't bluffing.
Weighing his options, he shrugged and said,
"What are you thinking? I just remembered Daphne and Sam are friends. It annoyed me.
Sure, I don't care much about Daphne, but she's my real sister. What could I do to her?"
With that, he yawned and waved his hand, saying, "I'm going to bed. It's the middle of the night and vol've made such a fuce for
night and you've made such a fuss for nothing..."
Back in his room, the door closed, his expression instantly twisted with murderous rage.
Daphne wasn't just stopping Jamarion from helping him deal with Sam. Now she was standing between him and half the inheritance, tOO.
"If only Daphne didn't exist..." Callan sneered to himself. "Real sister? Back when I was suffering, she was living the good life."
He walked to his bed and picked up a photo frame from the nightstand.
Inside was a picture of him and Joyce, taken back when they'd worked together.
She probably didn't even have this photo anymore.
But he'd kept it all this time.
He stared, obsessed, at Joyce's image.
"Joyce... you'll be mine. I'll make you see just how much better I am than Sam..."
Dawn was just breaking as a car stopped outside the Shurford Residence where Adeline lived.
Harrison got out first, then carefully lifted the sleeping Adeline from the backseat, wrapping her up in his coat.
A line of bodyguards stood at attention, all keeping their eyes respectfully down.
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