Chapter 97 Only a Strong Backer Can Save Us

• Wallace Hart gripped his cane so hard his knuckles went white. His face and eyes blazed with madness and hate. His hatred for Ronan Crest ran bone-deep. He wanted to skin him alive, tear flesh with his teeth, drink his blood—rage like a storm, nothing held back.
• All these years, the Harts had grown steadily. He stood high, and no one ever dared defy him. But now—
• Since Ronan Crest showed up, in just a few days, the Harts had been hit again and again. He himself had been slapped bloody. His grandson was ruined, left a cripple. The Harts would have no heir from here on out.