Eleanor Sullivan's call came while Victor Sullivan was berating his subordinates in the boardroom.

The roar from the other end of the line made his eardrums throb.

"Get your ass home now!" Her voice carried the fury of a thunderstorm.

Victor's heart clenched.

He hastily adjourned the meeting and rushed to the family manor without even grabbing his suit jacket.

The moment he stepped into the courtyard, he saw Eleanor leaning on her silver phoenix-head cane, its ruby glinting coldly in the sunlight.

He'd specially commissioned this cane three years ago.

Eleanor, who prized her dignity above all, had always refused to use a walking stick—until today.

Victor's stomach dropped.

"Mother, what's—"

Before he could finish, the cane came crashing down on him.

Thwack!

The first strike landed squarely on his forearm.

"Ow!" Victor gasped in pain. "What are you doing?"

The second swing was already mid-air. "I'll beat some sense into you, you disgrace!"

Victor dodged, only to spot William Sullivan watching from the veranda with amused detachment.

"Father! Do something!"

William drawled, "Let your mother vent."

"Sophia's situation has nothing to do with me!" Victor shouted while ducking.

This only enraged Eleanor further. "Lies! If you hadn't enabled the Valentines, would Sophia be in danger now?"

The cane rained down like hail.

Victor shielded his head with one arm while clutching a glass vial in his other hand.

"Let me explain—this vial is—"

"Save your breath!" A strike landed on his back. "You're overdue for this lesson!"

The eighty-year-old matriarch moved with the agility of a martial artist.

After enduring seven or eight blows, Victor finally snapped and grabbed for the cane.

"How dare you!" Eleanor's eyes blazed.

During their struggle, the glass vial shattered on the ground.

Only then did William amble over. "Enough. Don't wreck your health over him."

Eleanor released the cane, panting, and jabbed a finger at Victor's face. "Interfere with Ethan's affairs again, and I'll disown you!"

Rubbing his sore shoulder, Victor muttered, "They're already divorced. Sophia initiated it."

Eleanor staggered. "What?"

"She took a billion dollars and left happily." Victor sneered. "And you treat that gold-digger like some treasure."

"Bullshit!" Eleanor trembled with rage. "If Sophia cared about money, she'd never have married Ethan when he was in a wheelchair!"

Victor scoffed. "She was playing the long game."

Eleanor snatched up a shard of glass to hurl at him.

William intercepted her. "Don't give yourself a stroke."

He turned to Victor and barked, "Get out!"

Victor slunk away, humiliated.

Collapsing into a wicker chair, Eleanor wept bitterly.

"My poor Sophia..."

William patted her back. "Children make their own fortunes."

"What fortune?" She wiped her tears. "Ethan finally found someone who truly cared for him..."

Suddenly, she grabbed her phone.

"I'm calling Ethan!"

When he answered, Eleanor declared with finality, "Listen, boy. I don't care what it takes—you bring Sophia back to me."

After a pause, Ethan's low voice came through:

"Don't worry, Grandma. She won't get away."