Rich Radiant and Over Him (Alicia and Vincent) novel Chapter 339

Tyrone offered the old man a gentle smile, then turned to the butler and the doctor who had just entered the room. “Take good care of him,” he said.

With that, Tyrone left, taking Alicia with him.

The old man exhaled, his body finally relaxing as he stopped struggling.

“Sir, you must have realized by now—not every child is born good. Marcus was always trouble, never willing to learn, and now he’s stooped so low as to try to kill his own father.” The butler let out a weary sigh. “Thank goodness Young Master Tyrone arrived in time. Otherwise, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened.”

The butler truly hadn’t expected Marcus to go this far—to actually try to take the old man’s life. All because he didn’t want him to sign a will.

The doctor finished examining the old man. Just as the butler was about to escort him out, the old man grabbed the butler’s wrist with surprising strength.

“Sir, is there something you’d like to say?” the doctor asked anxiously.

“Rewrite... the... will…” The old man’s voice was raspy, barely more than a whisper.

He wanted a new will written. The previous one would be void.

The butler hesitated, glancing at the frail man. “Sir, in your current condition, drafting a new will—”

But the old man’s resolve was clear. The butler could only sigh and call for the legal team.

The old man had always played favorites, and heaven knows what kind of will he’d dictate this time.

. . .

Outside Seaview General Hospital.

“Do you really think I make the laws?” Easton shot back, coldly meeting her gaze. “Stop making a scene. If Dad ends up in prison, I’ll send you back to the village. You’ll get a monthly allowance—enough to live comfortably. But nothing more. Not a cent.”

Valery stared at him in disbelief. “What did you say?”

“I’ll have a lawyer contact you. You’ll get two thousand a month—that’s more than enough for a good life in the village,” Easton repeated, his voice calm.

“You ungrateful child! Two thousand? Two thousand—do you want me to starve? Are you giving me charity?” Valery screamed, her anger boiling over.

“Is two thousand charity?” Easton replied with a bitter laugh. “All these years, did I ever get more than three hundred a month for myself? That three hundred was from hauling seafood for Uncle Brown after school! Wasn’t it my job at the docks—making eighteen hundred a month—that kept this family afloat? Back then, the three of us lived on eighteen hundred a month just fine. Now it’s just you, and I’m offering you two thousand. Is that charity?”

Valery stared at her son, trembling all over, her outrage giving way to a deep, unfamiliar fear. In that moment, Easton felt like a stranger to her—someone she no longer recognized.