Chapter 1174:
The butler maintained a courteous smile. “Your father legally transferred ownership of this estate to Mrs. Morgan last Christmas. Her name is on the deed. The property is solely hers.” His tone hardened slightly. “If you refuse to leave, we will contact the police for trespassing.”
Cillian looked utterly defeated, as though publicly stripped bare, his pride lying in tatters.
“Sean gave her the house? Without telling anyone?” Frieda blurted, her voice shrill. “How could he? You’re his own flesh and blood!” She turned to Brad, her eyes reddening. “Brad, I’m your mother. I came back to make up for lost time. How can you treat me like this?”
Brad didn’t even glance her way. His gaze remained on Rylie, and in his mind replayed the image of her shielding him without hesitation. He knew, with profound certainty, that he was luckier than he deserved.
𝘕𝖾𝗐 𝘄𝗲𝖾𝗄𝘭y 𝘤𝗁аp𝘵e𝗿𝘀 𝗼n 𝗴a𝗅𝗇оve𝘭𝘀.𝖼o𝗺
“The Morgan family has no room for a corrosive presence,” Rylie stated, meeting Cillian’s stare directly, her words measured and deliberate. “Or for anyone who might tarnish its name.” Her meaning was unmistakable — she was no longer in the dark.
A servant nearby spoke up hesitantly. “Shall we clear the belongings from the guest bedroom as well? Miss Fowler is still getting a massage.”
“Give her ten minutes to dress, then escort her out,” Rylie answered without hesitation. “And ensure her proud boyfriend joins her.”
Cillian ground his teeth, barely containing his fury. “You will regret this,” he hissed.
“You’d better stay away from Kristen!” Frank warned, jabbing a finger toward her. “You won’t get off so easily next time.”
“Enough!” Cillian snapped at his son, a flash of fear crossing his face. If her identity were revealed, it could doom them all.
At the butler’s command, servants swiftly gathered every belonging. Kristen was ushered out the moment her massage ended, left standing at the mansion’s entrance in a robe and slippers, her possessions piled at her feet, confusion etched across her face.
Seeing Frank’s family subjected to the same humiliation, understanding — and white-hot rage — ignited within her.
“The Morgans actually threw us out? Who do they think they are?” Kristen seethed, having never endured such blatant humiliation.
She whirled toward the servants in the courtyard, her voice sharp. “Where is Brad? Get him out here now!”
Only Rylie moved. She bent down, gathered the scattered clothes, and tossed them out the door. Meeting Kristen’s furious glare with quiet defiance, she stated, “This house is mine. I decide who stays and who leaves.” Her tone was ice-cold. “What’s his is mine. His authority is now my authority.”
She didn’t pause. “Every dollar you’ve spent since returning will be logged as charity from Brad. Effective immediately, you are blacklisted from all Morgan-affiliated businesses — Eshea, the luxury malls, the entertainment ventures, every high-end establishment.” Her gaze was unwavering. “If you wish to maintain your lavish lifestyle, Miss Fowler, I suggest your boyfriend foot the bill.”
With that, Rylie signaled the butler. As the towering iron gate began to swing shut, Brad watched from an upstairs window and picked up his phone. “Monitor Kristen’s movements closely,” he instructed.
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