?<strong>Chapter 186:</strong>


    Irene summoned every ounce of strength, even attempting to rise, but found it difficult just to sit up. “Adrian! Can’t you and your mother wait until I’m dead?” As soon as the words left her lips, Irene copsed back onto the bed, panting heavily, utterly spent.


    Adrian’s lips curled into a cold smile. Rising from his seat, he poured her a ss of water. “There’s no need to get worked up, Grandma. You, better than anyone, know that I’m the only one in the Miller family capable of taking charge. You wouldn’t have spent so much time grooming me if it were otherwise. If you don’t want my uncle to destroy everything you and Grandpa built, you’ll have to make the safest choice—and you taught me that.”


    Irene took a moment to absorb Adrian’s words. She had anticipated this oue, but hearing it still made it real. After several minutes, her eyes, once clouded with doubt, cleared.


    “Ahem!” She slowly got up and pointed a trembling finger towards a locked drawer. With a shaky hand, she retrieved a copper key from her shirt pocket and handed it to Adrian. “Open it. Take out what’s inside.”


    Adrian knew without asking whaty within. He unlocked the drawer to reveal a stack of will documents. They had been revised numerous times. He knew Irene had started drafting her will years ago, and it had been the source of the deep rift between him and Quincy. In the pursuit of wealth, even family members could turn against each other.


    Irene reached for her sses on the bedside table, carefully cing them on her face. With rough, worn hands, she touched the papers. “I’ve been preparing for this day since Quincy’s ident. I’ve made many mistakes in my life, but the greatest was covering for Quincy and allowing your father to die unjustly. Adrian, I’m sorry.”


    But it was far toote for apologies—Adrian no longer needed them. Irene pressed on, “This will has been notarized. All my assets are yours—real estate, stocks, funds, thepany—everything.” Without a moment’s hesitation, she handed the will to Adrian. “When I’m gone, take this to Quincy. He won’t get a cent for murdering his own brother.”


    Adrian remained impassive, his expression unchanged. Irene slowly raised her head, her gaze meeting his. “But I beg you, Adrian. Everyone makes mistakes. Let your uncle live. I know you won’t let him walk free, but please, just let him live out his days quietly. As a mother, this is all I ask.”


    She was trading everything she had for her son’s life. Adrian agreed. “Okay, I promise you.”


    With the will in hand, he turned to leave. But Irene called out, “Adrian, I regret it. Do you?”


    He paused, his back to her, the weight of her words sinking deep. He didn’t turn around, but the loneliness and sorrow etched on his face were unmistakable. “I’ve heard about Joelle. If you ever find her and her child, please bring them to see me.” But deep down, Irene knew that day coulde toote—after she was gone.


    When Adrian stepped outside, Amara was waiting, impatience shing in her eyes. “How did it go? Did your grandmother mention the will?”


    Without a word, Adrian handed her the document. Amara’s eyes lit up with triumph. “It’s done, then?” Adrian nodded.


    “Great! L won’t dare to act superior now! So, what’s the n? How do we take care of Quincy?”


    Exhaustion washed over Adrian like a tidal wave. For years, he had bent to Amara’s will, executing her orders without question. Revenge was all Amara cared about. She clung to it like a lifeline, refusing to let go, even though Adrian’s father was long dead. Shouldn’t the living matter more? But to Amara, Adrian was just a tool—a robot molded by her, designed to fulfill her everymand. If things didn’t go her way, she would lose all control, unleashing her fury on him without hesitation.


    His voice was cold as he said, “I promised Grandma! She gave me everything. I’m letting Uncle Quincy go.”


    “What?” Amara’s face twisted in fury, her voice sharp and venomous. “Who gave you the right to decide that without my permission? Why should we let him go? Have you forgotten your father? I’ll see to it that he dies!”


    “Mom, it’s not easy to make someone disappear these days. We live in a society governed byw.”


    “I don’t care!” Amara’s eyes zed as she grabbed his cor. “You’re your father’s son! No matter how hard it is, you must avenge him!”


    Adrian’s gaze darkened. In Amara’s eyes, he saw nothing but hatred—hatred that consumed her, leaving no room for anything else. He asked quietly, “You don’t care if it drags me down with it, do you?”


    Amara’s grip loosened, and she took a step back, her eyes avoiding his. She couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. “Fine! If you won’t do it, I’ll find another way!”


    A weekter, Miller Group issued an obituary. The chairwoman had passed away peacefully at home, and the world around her mourned the loss.


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