Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire Chapter 323: Grandpa you just killed them

Just like that?

His father had acted even more decisively than he would have.

Ramsey’s heart pounded in his chest.

For as long as he could rember, his father had served by grandpa’s side, handling trivial matters like any ordinary butler.

Whenever he overheard others talk about his father’s past, he’d dismissed it as an exaggeration.

Now, he realized how wrong he’d been. It was the classic tactic—kill the chicken to scare the monkeys.

With the chicken dead, the monkeys would naturally tremble in fear.

The two remaining n felt the shadow of death loom over them, their ashen faces stiffening with dread.

Grandpa Luther didn’t even spare a glance at the corpse on the floor.

Instead, he lifted his gaze and addressed the two n, his voice eerily calm yet carrying an oppressive weight.

"What about you two?"

Terror gripped their hearts, and they exchanged a fleeting look.

But the thought of their families holding hostage clenched their jaws shut.

Not a word escaped their lips.

"We don’t know anything, so stop asking."

"Exactly—"

Still playing dumb till the bitter end.

Ramsey studied the two tight-lipped n, his expression hardening.

"Grandpa, you should rest. Leave these two to —I’ll find a way to make them talk." "No need."

Grandpa Luther narrowed his eyes slightly, his tone calm but firm.

"Uncle Carlos, proceed directly."

Again?

Ramsey froze, taken aback.

They hadn’t even gotten any information yet. Killing these two would an losing their only leads.

"But, grandpa—"

"Ramsey!"

Uncle Carlos cut off his son mid-sentence, his voice stern and unyielding.

"Grandpa’s decision is not to be questioned."

"...Understood."

At this point, Ramsey naturally didn’t dare to say another word.

The remaining two n hadn’t expected Grandpa Luther to take such drastic action.

Their pupils contracted in shock, and their bodies trembled uncontrollably as the reality of the situation sank in.

In the heavy silence, Uncle Carlos raised his gun once more.

**Bang!**

**Bang!**

The two gunshots sent shockwaves reverberating through the room.

The last two n collapsed instantly, blood pooling beneath them.

Grandpa Luther cast a detached glance at the three lifeless bodies before turning and striding out without another word.

Uncle Carlos shot Ramsey a aningful look.

"Let’s go."

Ramsey’s delicate features were etched with unease.

Once they left the basent, he could no longer suppress the questions gnawing at him.

"Grandpa, now that they’re dead, the trail has gone cold.

How will we find out who was behind the n tailing you?"

Had it been anyone else, Grandpa Luther wouldn’t have bothered responding.

Of course, no one else would dare ask such a question.

But Ramsey was different. Having grown up under grandpa’s watchful eye, he had been personally grood by him to serve as Sinclair’s—and the Luther Family’s—most trusted right-hand man.

Grandpa Luther paused in his steps and turned to Ramsey, his sharp, aged eyes glinting with unspoken aning.

"Who told you those three n are dead?"

"Th-they’re not?"

Ramsey frowned in confusion, recalling the unmistakably lifeless bodies of the three n.

"If Grandpa says they’re alive, then they’re alive," Uncle Carlos interjected in a low, firm voice.

"Send n imdiately to spread the word."

Spread the word?

At last, understanding dawned on Ramsey.

"You want to lure the mastermind into showing themselves?"

A glimr of approval flashed in Grandpa Luther’s eyes.

Without another word, he resud walking.

"Use your brain more often, boy.

Rust sets in quick when you don’t," Uncle Carlos said, clapping his son on the shoulder before following Grandpa out.

"Mr. Sinclair has been far too lenient with you."

Ramsey: Dad?!

Uncle Carlos didn’t care—after this whole ss was over, he was absolutely getting a paternity test done.

Just then—

"Grandpa—"

"grandpa,"

The rcenary guarding the door hurried once more.

"Mr. Jonathan is here."

The entire Luther Estate was loyal solely to Sinclair, so their attitude toward Jonathan naturally mirrored his.

While the main residence still referred to Jonathan as "Sir," here, he was simply addressed as "Mr. Jonathan"—and that was only out of deference to Grandpa.

Grandpa halted in his tracks.

"What does he say he wants?"

His stern face darkened with suspicion.

Both Uncle Carlos and Ramsey frowned in unison.

Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

Over the years, the man’s visits to the estate could be counted on one hand.

The rcenary was montarily stunned by the grandpa’s piercing gaze before collecting himself after a few seconds.

"Mr. Jonathan says... he’s here to see the CEO."

Grandpa Luther narrowed his eyes, his expression inscrutable.

After a long pause, he finally spoke in a asured tone.

"Let him in."

"Yes, sir!"

The rcenary imdiately bowed and turned to leave.

Seated on the central sofa in the living room, Grandpa Luther lowered his gaze, deep in thought.

Both Uncle Carlos and Ramsey could keenly sense the displeasure and oppressive aura radiating from Grandpa.

Soon, Jonathan entered.

"Father,"

Jonathan took a seat across from Grandpa Luther, his refined and handso face betraying unmistakable anxiety.

"What’s wrong with Sinclair?"

"What *should* be wrong with Sinclair?"

Grandpa Luther slowly raised his eyes, his penetrating gaze weighing heavily on Jonathan.

"The real question is—why have you suddenly co to the manor in the dead of night?"

The sharpness in grandpa’s eyes made a flicker of panic dart through Jonathan’s expression before he could conceal it.

Jonathan steadied his expression with a slight effort to compose himself.

"I went to the old residence to see you this evening, only to find you’d co to the estate," Jonathan said in a asured tone, sticking to the prepared excuse.

"I was worried Sinclair might have another episode, so I followed."

"You knew I was at the estate the mont I left the old residence?"

Grandpa Luther fixed his son with a piercing gaze, his sharp eyes growing colder.

"Your sources are quite impressive."

His deep, aged voice gave no hint of Uncle Carlos pressed his lips together, his expression grim.

Very few people were privy to grandpa’s schedule.

Clearly, the old residence wasn’t as tightly sealed as he’d believed—so thorough housecleaning was in order.

Jonathan hadn’t expected his father to press the issue so pointedly.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face.

"You were alone at the old residence.

As your son, it’s only natural for to be concerned about your well-being."

"Is that so?"

Grandpa Luther’s lips curved slowly into a knowing smile, his penetrating stare seeming to strip away all pretense.

"Seems I’ve got quite a few people watching over tonight—three more in the basent."

"Three in the basent?"

Jonathan’s heart skipped a beat at those words.

"Father, what do you an by that?"

There was no way Grandpa should have suspected him this quickly.

Grandpa Luther leaned back slightly in his chair, studying his son with an unreadable gaze as sharp as a blade.

"Exactly what you think I an."

Jonathan’s brow furrowed deeply.

"Soone actually dared to send n to tail you?"

His face was a mask of concern, though beneath it, a sliver of unease prickled at him.

"Did you get the mastermind behind it?"

Grandpa Luther’s expression remained grave.

"No rush."

His voice was steady, deliberate.

"Now that we’ve caught them, they’ll talk sooner or later."

As Jonathan listened to grandpa’s words, an inexplicable chill crept up his spine.

Looks like I’ll have to find a way to silence those three useless fools.

"Father, now isn’t the ti to discuss other matters," he said, his face etched with such convincing anxiety that he could have won an Oscar for his portrayal of a devoted father.

"You still haven’t told how Sinclair is doing.

Has his condition worsened?"

Though he posed the question, Jonathan already had a hunch.

After all, if that weren’t the case, grandpa wouldn’t be keeping vigil here in the dead of night.

"Hmm."

Grandpa Luther rubbed the sandalwood prayer beads between his fingers, remaining silent for a long mont before finally responding in a cold, heavy tone.

"It seems our Luther Family is about to face another storm."

Exactly as expected!

A complex mix of elation and concern flickered in Jonathan’s eyes.

The thrill ca from the confirmation that Sinclair had indeed suffered another episode—this was his chance to act.

Yet the worry stemd from the severity of the illness, which might prove life-threatening.

After all, there used to be Sinclair as a backup, but now, Sinclair was the only son left.

"Where is Sinclair now?"

Jonathan’s brow furrowed deeply.

"I’ll go see him."

"Camilla is already there.

Your presence won’t make a difference," Grandpa Luther said, his eyes narrowing slightly, his voice growing heavier.

"Go ho early."

But Jonathan didn’t move.

"Difference or not," he muttered, the corners of his lips twisting into a bitter, self-deprecating smile.

"As Sinclair’s father, I have to see his condition with my own eyes..."

Unless he saw it for himself, he wouldn’t be at ease.

Both Uncle Carlos and Ramsey were taken aback by Jonathan’s sudden display of paternal concern.

Was it guilt over what had happened before that made him act this way toward the young master?

Grandpa Luther studied his son in silence for a long mont before shifting his gaze to Ramsey.

"Take him there."

Although Ramsey didn’t understand Grandpa’s intentions, he didn’t question them either.

"Yes," he responded, stepping forward to stand before Jonathan.

"Sir, please follow ."

After casting a glance at Grandpa Luther, Jonathan trailed behind Ramsey toward the rear courtyard.

The living room was now empty except for grandpa and Uncle Carlos.

A heavy silence settled over the space.

"Uncle Carlos," Grandpa Luther said coldly, his gaze fixed in the direction Jonathan had departed.

"What do you make of this?"

Uncle Carlos knew exactly what Grandpa was asking.

Uncle Carlos hesitated briefly before answering cautiously,

"Sir’s behavior tonight... was indeed sowhat unusual."

"You’re right,"

Grandpa Luther murmured, leaning back into his seat with a faint sigh.

"Worrying about my father, fretting over my son," His voice was low and asured, laced with an indescribable bitterness.

"These are the most ordinary concerns for anyone else.

But when it cos to my own son, nothing feels right."

Uncle Carlos kept his head bowed, offering no reply.

This wasn’t a conversation he could interject into.

"Grandpa, if we really let Jonathan go to the back courtyard, what about Sinclair—"

"Don’t worry,"

Grandpa Luther’s expression was grave, and he said nothing more.

Yet the speed at which he toyed with his agarwood prayer beads slowed noticeably, a clear sign he was deep in thought.

anwhile, in the back courtyard.

Jonathan’s gaze settled on Luke standing guard outside the door, and a flicker of understanding passed through his eyes.

Luke frowned.

Why was Mr. Jonathan here?

"Open the door," Ramsey stared at Luke, enunciating each word deliberately.

"The gentleman wishes to see President Luther."

Luke glanced at Jonathan and gave a slight nod.

"Understood."

The rcenary behind them promptly opened the door.

Ramsey and Luke stepped aside.

"Sir, you may go in."

"What do you an?"

Jonathan frowned.

"Aren’t you coming in?"

Ramsey and Luke shook their heads in unison.

"We wouldn’t dare."

If they didn’t dare, he certainly didn’t either.

That rebellious son of his, Sinclair—when he lost his temper, he was capable of patricide!

A muscle twitched near Jonathan’s brow.