Raymond shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "Grandpa, this is my home. I'm not going anywhere."
Pete was shaking with anger as he stepped forward, voice sharp. "How did Celly raise such ungrateful kids?"
The siblings' sobs grew louder at his words.
Dahlia, unable to watch her precious grandchildren suffer, gathered both children into her arms, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Enough! Didn't you hear them? Neither of these kids wants anything to do with the Selwyn family! No one cares about your family name! If you keep pushing, I won't hesitate to get the courts involved!"
"Enough, Dahlia. That's quite enough from you," Alistair snapped, giving her a cold look before turning to Luther. "Mr. Selwyn, Celly's body hasn't even been found yet. There's no need to decide what happens to the kids right now. Even if their mother is gone, we'll never let them suffer here."
Luther said nothing, just stared at the weeping children.
He tried again, his voice softer. "Celia, Raymond, do you really not want to come back with me?"
"No! I'll never go to the Selwyns!" Celia's answer was immediate and fierce.
She was terrified that even a moment's hesitation would have her whisked away to a miserable life with the Selwyns.
Raymond, torn, shook his head again. "Grandpa, when school's out, I'll come visit you at the Selwyn house."
Luther fell silent.
After a long pause, he finally forced a wan smile. "All right, if you don't come with me, that's one less thing for me to worry about."
But his eyes, old and clouded, brimmed with a grief too deep for words.
Pete couldn't bear to see his grandfather like this.
All Luther wanted was to protect Celestine's last treasures from being swept away by the chaos of the Fordham family, but the children—so young—had already learned to take sides. How could they be so cold?
"As expected, rotten roots grow rotten branches! A pair of little ingrates. Grandpa, let's go! Only a fool would ever treat these kids like they're worth something!"
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