Before Stella could finish her hysterical sobbing, Martin cut her off with a low, furious voice.

"Are you telling me you accomplished absolutely nothing last night and simply handed Remington blackmail material on a silver platter?"

His gaze was fiercely severe, making Stella tremble involuntarily.

What could she say? It was the absolute truth-her entire night had been a catastrophic failure.

The photographer had fallen into Remington's hands. He had undoubtedly been interrogated, confessed that she was the mastermind, and handed Remington a solid reason to destroy her.

Seeing Stella cowering silently, Martin demanded coldly,

"Useless! Where is Ron?"

"Ron... They refused to let me bring him back."

Stella offered weakly. In a flash of absolute rage, Martin raised his hand, fully intending to slap her across the face.

But, remembering the maids were still present, he forced his hand down onto her shoulder instead, gripping it tightly.

"To think Remington would completely disregard your past friendship and do this to you. Don't worry. Dad will make sure you get justice for this."

He then ordered a maid to summon a doctor for Stella, turning back to his daughter with a grim smile.

"Come with me to the study. I'll help you clean up that wound first."

Stella forced a trembling smile that looked worse than crying.

The maids assumed Martin was genuinely concerned for her well-being. None of them realized that his grip on her shoulder was tightening relentlessly, so hard Stella felt her bones were about to shatter.

Too terrified to disobey, she followed him upstairs.

The second she stepped into the study and shut the door, Martin lunged, his hand clamping like a vice around her throat.

Stella's airway was instantly crushed. Her eyes bulged, filling with blood.

She stared at him in horrified, desperate plea. Only when her eyes began to roll back into her head did Martin finally release her.

"Cough... hack! Cough!"

Stella collapsed to her knees, gasping and hacking violently for air.

Martin glared down at her with glacial disgust. "You couldn't even bring back a single infant. What use are you to me?"

Still struggling to breathe, her face a bruised purple, Stella scrambled forward and clung to his leg.

"Dad, it's not like that... cough, cough... I deliberately left Ron there. I realized it's better for him to stay at Oakridge Heights for now."

Martin raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Stella tipped her head up, speaking frantically. "Dad, Remington currently has zero goodwill toward our family. Ron is your grandson. But it seems Remington hasn't et his anger toward us tarnish memory of my late brother Because of Quinn, Remington actually cares quite a bit about Ron.

If Ron stays by Remington's side, he acts as a crucial link for us. If they bond even more over time st gives. our family vital leverage over Remington. We know how heavily he vatues personal loyalty."

Her reasoning was surprisingly sound. Martin's expression softened slightly.

"Get up."

Only then did Stella dare pull herself off the floor. She followed him over to the sofas.

Martin took a seat. Stella hurriedly poured him a cup of tea before gingerly perching next to him.

"Dad, Liz lost her baby entirely because of the chaos surrounding Ron. Ron lived, and her child died. I refuse to believe Liz could ever genuinely love that boy.

Calling the police at the hospital was just a stunt to maintain her 'perfect victim' image in front of Remington Who knows what she'll do behind closed doors? If something were to... happen... to Ron while under her care it would inevitably spark a massive conflict between her and Remington. It just depends on whether you're willing to risk Ron..."

Martin shot her a freezing glare. "This is only necessary because you are incompetent. If you were capable, a baby wouldn't have to suffer for our gains!"

While phrased as a reprimand, it was, unequivocally, an agreement.