Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 382: Jonathan is no longer one of us

Chapter 382: Jonathan is no longer one of us

Another gunshot rang out.

This time, it pierced straight through the man’s skull.

"Grandpa Luther," Luke stepped inside, his expression tense, his soaked clothes still stained with traces of blood that hadn’t been fully washed away.

"Are you alright?"

Only after taking action did he realize that the men the grandpa Luther had arranged had already infiltrated the villa.

With coordination from both inside and out, everything had gone even more smoothly.

But he never expected that some rat inside would dare to pull a gun on Grandpa Luther.

When he heard the gunshot, his heart had nearly stopped.

"I’m fine," Grandpa Luther replied, his face icy as he glanced at Uncle Carlos’s wounded arm.

"Uncle Carlos’s injured.

Have someone come and bandage him up."

"It’s just a flesh wound.

Nothing serious."

"Understood," Luke had naturally noticed the wound on Uncle Carlos’s arm and cast a glance at the mercenary beside him.

A medic quickly arrived to extract the bullet from Uncle Carlos’s arm and dress the injury. _{free\we\bnov(e)(l).com}

The group soon left the villa behind.

Only a handful remained to deal with the corpses piled in the courtyard and the bloodstains that the relentless downpour kept washing away.

The rain grew heavier, as if the entire capital had been swallowed by an impenetrable curtain of water.

—— Inside the Luther Corporation headquarters.

"Santino is right," Collins chimed in.

"The Luther Corporation was founded by the main family line, so it’s only fitting that someone from the main lineage takes the reins."

As he spoke, he turned to look at Jonathan.

"Given the current circumstances, you’re the most suitable candidate to take over."

His words were met with murmurs of agreement from several others.

Of course, where there were supporters, there were inevitably dissenters as well.

Jonathan’s previous track record spoke for itself—no one believed he was capable of properly managing the Luther Corporation.

This directly impacted their own interests. Camilla observed the crowd with an icy, detached gaze, as if she were merely a spectator watching a play unfold.

"While that may be true, I must respect everyone’s opinions," Jonathan said, gently swirling the tea leaves in his cup with the lid before lifting his eyes to the group.

"How about we put it to a vote?"

Jonathan narrowed his sharp, calculating eyes.

"What does everyone think?"

Silence.

"I think it’s a fair and straightforward solution," Santino finally spoke, his tone measured and deliberate.

"I’ll go first—I agree that Jonathan should temporarily take over all matters concerning the Luther Corporation and its core operations."

A fleeting, unreadable expression passed through the tall, lean man’s eyes.

"I agree as well."

"Same here." ...

Many in attendance had already sensed the direction today’s events were heading.

After a few seconds of deliberation, they quickly voiced their support.

When the throne changes hands, so must the courtiers—they knew they had to seize this opportunity.

In a matter of moments, the majority had fallen in line.

Jonathan’s gaze swept over the handful of holdouts who remained silent, a glint of icy ruthlessness flickering in his eyes, though his expression betrayed nothing.

"Well, if this is the collective will, I won’t stand in the way," he said, leaning back in his chair with an air of calculated ease.

"Attorney Zion, you see the situation for yourself.

Circumstances leave me no choice.

Proceed with the notarization and signatures."

"This..." Attorney Zion frowned, hesitating as he glanced toward Camilla.

Camilla’s face remained impassive, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"Quit dragging your feet," Jonathan said, his voice low and laced with menace as he fixed the lawyer with a stare cold enough to freeze blood.

"Unless... you have objections?"

Understanding Camilla’s silent cue, Attorney Zion averted his gaze and shook his head.

"No, no objections at all."

The attorney placed the pre-prepared equity transfer agreement in front of Jonathan.

Jonathan stared at the document he had coveted for so long, his eyes brimming with barely contained triumph and satisfaction.

With just a signature, the entire Luther Corporation—no, the entire Luther Family legacy—would be his.

After scheming for so long, his plan had finally come to fruition.

Collins and the others also let out a long sigh of relief.

Yet, just as Jonathan took the pen handed to him by an assistant and prepared to sign—

The conference room door swung open once more from the outside.

A stern, aged voice spoke slowly.

"Camilla may have no objections, but I do."

Camilla’s thick lashes fluttered slightly, and a faint smile curved her lips.

The moment that voice reached his ears, Jonathan’s pupils dilated in shock before contracting sharply.

It was as if thunder had exploded beside him—his blood ran cold, freezing him in place.

Slowly, stiffly, he turned his head toward the doorway.

Not only Jonathan, but Santino and the others also turned deathly pale in an instant.

The rest of the room was equally stunned.

Hadn’t they been told the old patriarch was poisoned and unconscious?

What the hell was going on here?

The spacious conference room plunged into an scary silence thick enough to cut with a knife.

The conference room door swung open from the outside.

Two burly mercenaries strode in first, taking up positions on either side of the entrance like sentinels.

Then, with measured steps, an imposing old man clad in a traditional black changshan entered, leaning heavily on his cane.

His downcast eyes betrayed no emotion, yet the aura of authority radiating from him was palpably more intense than usual, casting an invisible weight over everyone present.

Close behind him followed Uncle Carlos, his arm bandaged in gauze, his expression grim.

"Grandfather, are you hurt?"

Camilla stepped forward, steadying Grandpa Luther’s arm with gentle concern.

Her eyes swept over him, scanning for injuries, and only when she found none did her shoulders relax slightly.

The others noticed her calm, clear gaze—utterly unruffled, as if none of this surprised her.

Has her earlier flustered hesitation been nothing but an act?

"I’m fine," Grandpa Luther replied, his voice low but warm.

"It’s you who’s suffered today."

Camilla shook her head silently.

These petty slanders and dismissals didn’t even qualify as grievances to her.

Compared to what she endured, Grandfather Luther was the one who truly suffered injustice.

Grandpa Luther patted Camilla’s hand before making his way to the head seat. In an instant, everyone—except Jonathan, frozen stiff in his chair—rose to their feet with deep respect.

"Grandpa Luther—"

"Grandpa Luther!"

... How could this be?

Why was it happening again?!

Jonathan stared at his father, his earlier smug satisfaction twisting into sheer terror and despair.

His face turned deathly pale, lips trembling as if struggling to form words.

"...Father."

The hoarse whisper scraped out of his throat like gravel.

Grandpa Luther merely cast him an indifferent glance, offering no response. His aged eyes were like the still surface of an ancient well—deep, unfathomable, and utterly devoid of warmth.

Grandpa Luther took his seat at the head of the conference table, directly opposite the other end.

Every head in the room swiveled toward him in unison.

By stark contrast, Jonathan, who remained seated at the far end, now looked utterly isolated, like a lone figure abandoned in the shadows.

"Take your seats," Grandpa Luther said coolly, his gaze sweeping over the assembly.

"Yes, sir."

With deferential nods, the others finally settled into their chairs.

The previously outspoken Collins and Santino now sat rigidly, their minds reeling, their breaths shallow.

This was it.

They were done for. Today, it seemed, Jonathan was going to drag them all down with him.

Even those who had earlier voted in favor of Jonathan taking control of the Luther Family now fidgeted uneasily, their nerves frayed.

"Grandfather," Morgan spoke first, casting the same disdainful look at Jonathan and his allies that they had once directed at him.

"Jonathan claimed you were imprisoned by Madam and poisoned into a coma.

So how—?"

"I *was* imprisoned," Grandpa Luther cut in, his voice steady.

"And I nearly *was* poisoned.

But not by Camilla."

Grandpa Luther raised his eyes, his icy gaze settling on Jonathan as his authoritative voice dripped with indifference.

"It was this unfilial son."

Everyone present was sharp enough to read between the lines.

The moment grandpa Luther appeared, they had already guessed as much.

But suspecting something was one thing—hearing it confirmed from the old man’s own lips was another.

A collective shudder ran through the room. The air grew thick with tension as no one dared to utter a word.

"No, Dad, I—"

Jonathan was completely unraveled, his eyes bulging wide, his face a mask of poorly concealed despair.

Jonathan wanted to defend himself, but the words died in his throat.

After all, his father’s presence alone spoke volumes.

"Unkind to your own son, unfilial to your father, disloyal to the family, and treacherous to your own kin."

Grandpa Luther stared at Jonathan, the disappointment in his eyes long hardened into frost and detachment.

"A man devoid of kindness, filial piety, loyalty, and righteousness has no place in the Luther Family.

From this day forward, Jonathan is no longer one of us."