Even Isabella froze when she heard the words "cut ties for good". She had never considered it, nor had she ever dared to.
Yet, when Theodore said it so casually, a sudden wave of relief washed over her.
"Mr. Sinclair—"
Isabella's voice pulled Margaret back to reality. Then, she remembered Theodore was nothing more than a broke driver. How much money could he possibly have?
To Margaret, he was just putting on an act.
She scoffed. "How much? Could you even afford it? With a job like yours, you don't even have the right to ask!"
Meanwhile, Richard feigned concern and said, "Didn't you just say you loved Isabella? If you truly want the best for her, then stay out of her life. Don't get in the way of her future."
"So, Richard, are you saying letting Isabella marry a scumbag is what's good for her?" Theodore retorted.
He went on, "Have you ever once cared about her? You raised her only to profit from her. Since that's the case, I'll settle that in one lump sum today. From now on, she only needs me as her family."
Having said his piece, Theodore turned, his icy gaze locking onto Richard. There wasn't a trace of anger in his eyes, but it was enough to send a shiver down Richard's spine.
"Name your price, Mr. Moore," Theodore said sharply.
That single change in address—from "Richard" to "Mr. Moore"—landed harder than any insult.
Though Richard was decades older, he felt utterly cowed by Theodore's gaze. He carefully held up five fingers, studying Theodore's face as he stammered, "F-Five…"
Theodore appeared to be in his early 30s, yet he carried himself with the calm authority of someone long accustomed to power. The kind of effortless presence wasn't something a mere driver could possess.
Suddenly, Margaret blurted, "Five million dollars!"


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