Karena hesitated as she glanced at the vibrating phone screen. The name 'Pudding’s Mom' flashed across WhatsApp. She handed the phone to Helen. Helen frowned and instructed, "Open it." The message popped up: "It's thundering. I'm scared." Disgust flickered across Helen's face. "That vixen. Because of her, Fraser wants to send Mia back to Ameros. He even nearly got upset with me." Her voice turned cold. "Looks like my grandson sees this woman differently. Once Mr. Graham Sr. recovers, I'll get rid of her. Delete the message." Karena obeyed without hesitation, wiping away any trace of the message. The surgery lasted nearly two hours. Finally, Mr. Graham Sr. was wheeled out and taken to a VIP recovery suite. He was still in critical condition. The VIP suite in this private hospital was no different from a five-star presidential suite, fully equipped with a living room, kitchen, and bedroom. The doctor turned to Fraser. "Mr. Graham, you can't leave tonight. Mr. Graham Sr.'s condition could relapse at any time, and if necessary, we may need another transfusion from you." Fraser lounged lazily on the sofa, his long legs stretched out. Having lost a significant amount of blood, his usually flawless complexion was slightly pale. Yet, the sharp contours of his face remained strikingly handsome. He tossed aside the cotton swab pressed against his arm and gave a casual grunt of acknowledgment. Doctors reentered the suite to monitor Mr. Graham Sr.'s vitals. Seated in a single-seater chair, Helen signaled for food to be prepared. Noticing her grandson's exhaustion, she sighed and spoke earnestly. "Fraser, your grandfather's condition is a ticking time bomb. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have insisted you attend the Lastesh Group's heiress Anne's graduation in Ameros. He wanted to formalize your engagement process." Fraser leaned back slightly, eyes closed, feigning sleep. His slender fingers toyed idly with his phone. "I know you've never acknowledged it. Even if it's not Anne, a family like ours needs a marriage of equal standing. It will help you go further." Her tone lowered. "Besides, I've heard that your uncle's influence in Oblistan has grown. He's been waiting for an opportunity. If something happens to your grandfather, he will undoubtedly return to seize power." Maximus had been a notorious philanderer in his younger days. As the rightful matriarch of the Graham family, Helen had turned a blind eye as long as things didn't go too far. But then, one of his mistresses had the audacity to bear his child. That, Helen could not tolerate. She sent people to deal with the woman to ensure she never gave birth. But the woman defied them, secretly giving birth to a son, who was Brandon, Fraser's uncle. There was no choice. Helen had to discard the mother, but the child remained. Thus, Helen raised her own son, Wyatt, alongside Brandon. But as the two grew up, Brandon harbored deep resentment. He refused to accept being merely the second son while Wyatt was destined to inherit the family fortune. Driven by ambition, he committed countless despicable acts in the shadows. One fateful day, Wyatt's private jet crashed into a ravine. The investigation confirmed it was a manmade sabotage. And the only person with a motive was Brandon. Yet, all evidence and witnesses vanished without a trace. In the end, Maximus made a decision to expel Brandon from the family. For over a decade, Brandon had been amassing power across Oblistan, navigating both the legal and the underground worlds. And his hatred for the Graham family never faded. Fraser's dark eyes slowly opened. His gaze was deep, his voice laced with cold amusement. "Restless, is he? He thinks he can topple Graham Group?" Helen shook her head. "That's not what I meant. But the Lastesh Group is backed by Oblistan's financial elite. A union with them would only strengthen our family." Fraser chuckled mockingly. "If the old man wants an alliance so badly, why doesn't he marry an Oblistan businesswoman himself? Or better yet, Grandma, you could find yourself an Oblistan tycoon to wed. That would be a true power match." Helen's face turned green. Meanwhile, in Ravenshire Boulevard, outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the storm raged on. The wind howled, rain pounding mercilessly against the glass. Since sending the message, Summer had been clutching her phone. Seconds crawled by. Each time the phone vibrated, she snatched it up, only to be met with disappointment. Finally, at midnight, a message popped up. There were only a few simple words. "I won't be back tonight." In an instant, the anticipation swelling within her heart was torn apart, shredded by the storm outside. Her entire body went cold, trembling. For a long time, Summer stared at the screen. Then, silently, she shut her phone and tossed it onto the table.