Your Uncle’s My Husband Now Back Off, Ex! novel Chapter 187

**Through Unseen Doors We Step Into Untold Worlds Beyond by Sage Hunter Lane**
**Chapter 187**

Cyrus was seething with rage, his face flushed with indignation. “How dare you place the blame on me? You raised a son so utterly worthless that he can’t even manage a single mistress!” His voice dripped with contempt, each word a sharp dagger aimed at Cindy.

Cindy’s anger flared, and she shot back, “Shut up!” Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the heat of her fury evident in her trembling hands. “If you hadn’t spent every waking moment away from home, chasing after your endless parade of mistresses, Clark wouldn’t have turned out like this. He learned everything from you!” Her voice was a mixture of hurt and accusation, as if she were trying to peel back the layers of Cyrus’s arrogance.

Cyrus scoffed, a sneer curling his lips. “I refuse to engage in this petty squabble over past grievances. It’s utterly pointless at this stage. You’d do well to keep your mouth shut and not escalate matters further. If you truly provoke the old man, there’s a good chance Clark will never find his way back into the Sumner Group.” His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the family’s complex dynamics.

After all, the Sumners had more than one heir, and the stakes were high.

As Cyrus turned to leave, Cindy reached out desperately, attempting to halt his retreat. But he brushed her aside with a forceful shove, sending her stumbling back. She barely managed to regain her balance, her heart racing as she scanned the room. By the time she steadied herself, Cyrus had vanished, leaving her alone with her mounting frustration.

…

Clark had spent the entire night on his knees at the entrance of the Sumner residence, the chill of the marble floor seeping into his bones. When the rain began to pour in the dead of night, he remained steadfast, allowing the cold droplets to wash over him until sheer exhaustion overwhelmed his resolve, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.

The following morning, a maid discovered him sprawled out at the threshold, his body limp and unresponsive. Panic surged through her, and she rushed to summon the family doctor, urgency in her every step. With swift efficiency, they carried Clark back to his room, the weight of his presence felt like a heavy burden on their shoulders.

After a whirlwind of activity, Clark finally stirred awake, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal the familiar contours of his bedroom. A faint smile crept onto his lips, a flicker of triumph igniting within him. His plan had unfolded as he had hoped—the strategy of leveraging his suffering had borne fruit. The rain had arrived just in time, a fortuitous ally that had kept him from being left outside the mansion, exposed and vulnerable.

As he noticed the IV drip nearly depleted, a sense of determination surged through him. He yanked it out and made his way downstairs, a renewed sense of purpose guiding his steps.

Entering the living room, he spotted Richard and Marie seated together, their expressions a mix of concern and disappointment. Without hesitation, he approached them and knelt, the weight of his actions pressing heavily on his conscience.

“Grandpa, Grandma, I know I’ve let you down in ways I can’t even begin to express,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with remorse. “I hope, with time, you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. More than anything, though, I implore you not to let this turmoil affect your health.” His words were sincere, a plea for understanding and compassion.

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