Once word got out that the Lionhearts were conspiring to assassinate the head of one of the Four


    Families of Morhen, their reputation would be dealt a serious blow. It went without saying that it would


    be much worse than Sif''s troubles at Norsedam!


    As such, Sif was now afraid to breathe a peep.


    If she somehow exposed herself now, forget Ciril—even her own family elders would skin her for the


    sheer vileness of her plot!


    Soon, Morhen would be left in chaos as it was every man for himself, while even the Lionhearts would


    find themselves desperate.


    "N-No, sir," Sif quickly said humbly. "I came here to deliver an invitation—my brother Titus will be


    marrying Vicky Turnbull in a few days, and your family is cordially invited to attend the ceremony."


    "Hmph. Yet another arranged marriage?" Ciril chuckled coolly and waved her off. "I understand. You


    may go now."


    "Ah... yes, of course. By your leave, Mr. Janko." Sif bowed slightly, ready to flee with her men right


    then.


    Still, she stayed long enough to shoot Frank a vicious re, as if to tell him that he was lucky this time!


    Before she could disappear, however, Ciril suddenly called out to her. "Wait!"


    "Yes, Mr. Janko?" Sif asked, turning around reluctantly.


    "Please send my thanks to Simon for his generous hospitality." Ciril smiled darkly. "I will always be


    grateful, and I solemnly vow to return the favor eventually."


    Sif pursed her lips, and this time, she went straight to her car with her bodyguards without pausing as


    they fled.


    When they were all gone from sight, Ciril suddenly coughed a mouthful of blood and dropped on one


    knee.


    Naturally, he was just putting on a strong front earlier.


    "Father!"


    "Brother!"


    Ned and Lothar hurried to his side to help him, but he raised a hand to stop them.


    "I''m fine," he said, before looking up at Ned with a contented smile, pping him on the shoulder.


    "You''ve done well, Ned. I was right about you—I''m satisfied with what you''ve done, to say the least."


    "Father." Ned shook his head guiltily and sighed. "Yed is right. I''m useless. If it wasn''t for Mr.


    Lawrence''s help, I''d be—"


    Belongs to (N)?vel/Drama.Org.


    "Don''t take away credit from yourself now!" Cirilughed heartily. "You understand how important it is to


    rely on others, to have faith and gamble—that''s wisdom in its own right! Just look at me and your Uncle


    Lothar. We both started out with nothing... But now, even the Lionhearts are tiptoeing around us!"


    "Yeah." Ned smiled and nodded, his face lighting up with confidence again.


    "Haha! Good. Now help me up!"


    As Ned and Lothar helped Ciril up to his feet, holding one arm each, Ciril turned toward Frank with yet


    another heartyugh. "Thank you so much, Mr. Lawrence. I heard you''re both a formidable fighter and


    a skilled healer."


    Beside Ciril, Lothar could tell what his brother was going to say and quickly whispered into his ear,


    "Hold on, brother. The boy is Donn Lawrence in the flesh—I''m sure of it."


    "Huh?"


    Ciril''s pupils dted, and he paused, clearing his throat.


    Suddenly, he was looking at Frank as if Frank was an equal. "Mr. Lawrence, you''ve saved my life and


    the legacy I''ve built. I hence announce that my family shall now pull out from the race to be one of


    the Four Families of Morhen."