Reborn to Burn Them All novel Chapter 126

Chapter 126

Wilbur gazed at Sophia, words caught in his throat. He’d just heard that name from the shareholders, and now Sophia was saying it. The coincidence was downright eerie.

He couldn’t help but think of Samuel. The names were just so similar.

His heart gave a sudden leap. His fingers trembled slightly, curling in on themselves. ‘Did I just stumble onto something I wasn’t supposed to know? he wondered. Trying to keep his voice steady, Wilbur asked cautiously, “Can I ask why you chose that name?”

Sophia fixed him with a piercing glare. “Why shouldn’t I use this name? Got a problem with that?”

Wilbur choked, unable to meet her sharp gaze as a pang of guilt hit him.

Sophia’s lips curled into a sly smile as she narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Wilbur, you seem quite interested in the name Samuel, don’t you?”

Wilbur looked down, pretending to take a sip of water. “No, not really. I was just curious, that’s all,” he replied, trying to sound casual

Sophia gave a knowing response, her lips curving into an enigmatic smile. “I thought you might have heard that name somewhere before.”

Wilbur swallowed hard, saying nothing. ‘The Chandlers‘ mess is none of my business,‘ he thought. ‘Besides, I was already planning revenge. Wouldn’t their chaos work in my favor?‘

Sophia gave him a long, penetrating look and stood up. “Alright, get ready. I’m going to pick a prime location for our company.” With that, she strode off, leaving Wilbur standing there, utterly dumbfounded.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. They hadn’t even picked an office location yet, and she was already rushing to register the company. The whole setup reeked of unreliability at every turn. With a boss like this, he suddenly felt the crushing weight of responsibility.

Composing himself, Wilbur quickly got down to business. First, he drafted a resignation letter, and then started gathering materials.

As soon as she stepped out of the café, Sophia texted Ciara, [Keep Sampson Group for me. I have plans for it.]

Ciara didn’t ask a single question–she just replied with a simple, [Okay.]

Sophia had chosen the Sampson Group building as her company’s headquarters. She relished the thrill of usurping the throne, staking her claim on enemy turf and writing her name across her rival’s domain. This was just the beginning and it felt exhilarating.

In short, with the company’s location settled, Sophia, as the boss, had three priorities: making money, spending money, and stirring up trouble. Soon, her phone buzzed with a bank transfer notification from Jonathan.

Seeing that measly 300 grand, Sophia curled her lip in disdain. “Jonathan, oh, Jonathan. This is what you call fair treatment? How utterly disappointing.”

Furious and itching for revenge, Sophia grabbed her phone and called Heather. As soon as the call connected, she launched into an indignant tirade. “Jonathan’s gone too far, Heather! Do you have any idea what I just witnessed?

“Jonathan keeps telling you he’s too busy to go to the hospital or even come home. But guess what? I just saw him meeting with that bastard Wilbur at WilLuna Café, and he handed Wilbur three million dollars! God, this makes my blood boil!

“How could he do this? That’s your shared money! He actually went behind your back and gave your cash to that bastard Wilbur. That’s way out of line!

“When I caught him red–handed, he actually tried to bribe me with 300 grand to keep quiet! Heather, do you really think I’d betray you for some pocket change?

“Heather! Say something! Don’t tell me you’ve died of rage–no, don’t die! If you do, that bastard Wilbur will just waltz right into the Chandler residence, take over your house, steal your husband, and fight your children for their inheritance.”

It was unclear whether Heather would die of anger, but she was definitely being talked to death by Sophia. Frowning, she held the phone away from her

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Chapter 126

ear, her face twisted in disgust.

Heather had already heard from Hank about Jonathan going to Will una Café, but what she couldn’t stomach was that he’d secretly given Wilbur 3 million behind her back. “Enough,” she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice low with fury.

Sophia abruptly stopped mid–sentence. “Heather, you already knew about this, didn’t you?”

Heather remained silent, her anger palpable.

“So, should I take this 300 grand or not?” Sophia asked. Before Heather could reply, she continued righteously. “If he can give Wilbur three million dollars, what’s wrong with me taking a measly three grand?

“Heather, don’t be upset. Look on the bright side. Jonathan didn’t just throw away 3 million for nothing. At least that bastard Wilbur is out of Chandler Group now.”

Heather was speechless with rage.

Sophia hung up the phone with a wicked grin. ‘Well, if I’m not happy, why should anyone else be? Misery loves company, she thought smugly.

After being hung up on, Heather was furious. Looking around her cold, empty house–Howard still in the hospital, Sean always busy, and Jonathan never coming home–a wave of sorrow and helplessness washed over her.

“Madam, these are packages for Mr. Howard Chandler,” the maid said, wheeling in a cart piled high with parcels.

Heather asked, her eyes red–rimmed, “Who sent these?”

The maid shook her head. “There’s no sender information on it.”

Heather forced herself to stay calm and motioned for the maid to bring the packages over. But there were too many. As the maid pushed the cart forward, one package slipped off. The maid bent down to pick it up and suddenly screamed.

Heather, already in a foul mood, snapped furiously, “What the hell are you screaming about?”

The maid pointed a trembling finger at the floor, her face deathly pale with terror. “Th–there’s… blood…” she stammered.

Heather rushed over and saw the fallen package with blood seeping out. Horrified, she staggered back two steps, her face turning ashen. “Quick! Open it and see what’s inside!” she cried.

The maid recoiled in fear, shaking her head and refusing to touch it. In the end, the butler donned gloves and carefully sliced open the package with a box cutter. Inside lay a mutilated rat–disemboweled and beheaded, its lifeless, bloodshot eyes wide open.

The dead rat’s mutilated body was nailed to a photo of Howard. The picture had been slashed beyond recognition with a knife, and emblazoned across in a glaring red word was: “DIE!”

The maid standing nearby clamped both hands over her mouth in terror. Heather’s face went deathly pale, her lips bloodless. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she barely managed to steady herself by grabbing onto the back of the sofa.

The butler asked cautiously, “Madam, these parcels are all for Mr. Howard Chandler. Should we open the rest?”

Heather wrenched her gaze away, her stomach churning–she was both terrified and revolted by the dead rat. Gripping the back of the sofa for support, she ground out through clenched teeth, “No need. Throw them out immediately.”

The butler nodded and was about to clean up when Sophia sauntered in, hands stuffed in her pockets. “Hey, what’s everyo she drawled, only to freeze at the sight of the dead rat.

ng here? Looks lively,”

Sophia arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Whose genius idea was this? Heather, don’t tell me a dead rat actually scared you?”

Heather turned away sharply. “Get rid of all this stuff.”

Sophia glanced at the mountain of packages and instantly got the picture. With a smirk, she said, “Why throw them out? Open them all up for ma