Jennifer had never believed in Lambert's loyalty to her, and now, out of nowhere, a will had surfaced. She was eager to understand Lambert's true intentions; this year seemed like the perfect opportunity to figure it out.
"Lambert, don't stay silent. You're the head of Wenshte Group; you owe us an explanation," Ferguson pressed, demanding a response.
Jennifer wasn't backing down either. "Lambert, speak your mind. You're the CEO of Wenshte Group—there's no need to fear anyone."
No matter how they argued, Lambert remained silent, simply stating, "We're all family. Jonathan's injury is the most important thing."
"Lambert, are you implying that you were behind this framing? Are you setting us up for a 'knife in the back'?" Ferguson blurted, his frustration growing as Lambert refused to speak. He decided to strike first.
If they couldn't be allies, then he'd make Lambert the enemy.
Jennifer's eyes narrowed, like bottomless black holes, as she watched Lambert's face intently, searching for any sign of change.
Lambert's expression remained neutral, his gaze earnest as he looked at her.
"Lambert, what do you mean? Stop acting like a mute and speak up. Are you even still a descendant of the Wenshte Family?" Ferguson, impatient, pushed Lambert's shoulder roughly.
The wheelchair jerked backward, and Mia, who was nearby, immediately turned pale, breaking into a cold sweat as she clutched her stomach and collapsed to the floor.
"Ferguson, are you trying to kill my grandson?" Jennifer was livid, stepping in front of Lambert and Mia, slapping Ferguson across the face.
"You dare hit me, you filthy woman?" Ferguson winced, the imprint of her slap still visible on his cheek.
"I'm slapping people like you—those who plot to harm others for profit," Jennifer hissed through gritted teeth, delivering another resounding slap.
Outside the emergency room, chaos erupted. Lambert ordered Ethan to move Mia out of the way as doctors and nurses rushed over to take her.
Two wealthy members of the Wenshte Family, making a scene in a public hospital, fighting and even physically attacking each other—this spectacle was promptly captured by reporters who had arrived just in time, and it was quickly uploaded online, sparking a public outcry.
Jennifer struggled to escape the reporters' relentless questions, finally managing to slip away. Ferguson, however, seized the opportunity to accuse Jennifer of her stubbornness over the years, claiming she had been trying to take control of Wenshte Group step by step.
The situation spiraled out of control, and Wenshte Group's stock price fluctuated, losing several billion in value.
In the hospital room, Lambert listened to Ethan's report, his face growing darker.
"Mr. Wenshte, what should we do now?" Ethan asked, awaiting his orders.
"Take me to Jonathan's room." It was already evening, and Lambert glanced at Mia's bed. She was still unconscious. His voice softened unexpectedly, almost as though he feared disturbing her.
"Yes, Mr. Wenshte." Ethan obeyed, moving lightly and quietly.
"Don't worry, Mr. Wenshte. The doctor said there's no major issue. The baby is healthy, though there's a risk of preterm birth. Both Mrs. Wenshte and young Wenshte will be fine," Ethan reassured Lambert.
"I hope so," Lambert murmured, almost inaudible, as though only he could hear it.
Had it not been for Mia's pain, which distracted Jennifer, the drama would have ended before it even began. Lambert found himself with a slightly different view of Mia.
Ethan pushed open the door to Jonathan's room and wheeled Lambert to his bedside. At that moment, Ferguson and Jennifer were embroiled in a fierce battle, both trying desperately to find evidence of the other's wrongdoing, completely oblivious to the younger generation in the hospital.
"Big brother, you even came to see me; you're too kind. I don't deserve it," Jonathan said eagerly, sitting up in bed as soon as he saw Lambert. His movements were normal, without a hint of injury.
"Good to see you're fine," Lambert sighed with relief, but his words were cryptic as he opened his hand in front of Ethan.
Ethan handed him a document, which Lambert passed to Jonathan with a cold tone. "Sign this, Jonathan. If I don't protect you, you'll have to leave Wenshte Group—and possibly the Wenshte Family as well."
The transfer of shares document loomed large in front of Jonathan. "Big brother, this isn't what we agreed on."
Jonathan eyed Lambert warily. He had only followed Lambert's instructions when Jennifer caused a scene, pretending to be seriously injured to get to the hospital. The rest of the plan had been Lambert's.
But now, he realized the true nature of the arrangement—it was all to trick him into handing over his shares. Jonathan's attitude toward Lambert shifted drastically, and the respect he had once held for him was gone.
"Lambert, you can't be so heartless. If Jennifer finds out that everything today was your plan, then you—"
"Jonathan." Lambert gently called his name, then, with a swift motion, his large hand tightened around Jonathan's neck. A slight pressure, and Jonathan found it hard to breathe.
Lambert was like a devil—ruthless, consuming, and merciless. His fingers squeezed tighter, his gaze like an abyss, never leaving Jonathan.
"Be obedient, and you'll still be my brother." His voice was soft, almost affectionate, as though he were pampering a younger sibling. Yet, the increasing pressure of his grip betrayed his true intent—to kill Jonathan.
Jonathan struggled for air, coughing repeatedly. With shaking hands, he reached for the pen Lambert was holding and gestured his agreement to the share transfer. Only then did Lambert release his grip.
"I'll sign, I'll sign. It's fine as long as the shares stay within the Wenshte Family. As long as you don't ally with Jennifer, I'll give you this 5% share for nothing," Jonathan trembled, trying to sound dignified, though fear was evident in his voice.
"Know what to say and what not to say," Lambert warned coldly as he checked the signed document.
"I know. Don't worry, I'll never betray you. This will be our secret," Jonathan gritted his teeth, vowing to hold onto his pride.
"Ethan, let's go," Lambert said, satisfied with the answer. He slumped into his wheelchair, looking every bit the injured, defeated man again.
Jonathan, still clutching his neck, was filled with a sense of dread. He had clearly seen Lambert's feet pressing against the floor—Lambert wasn't crippled?
As they exited Jonathan's room and approached Mia's, they saw Jennifer, who was helping the weakened Mia to leave.
"Lambert, you came at the right time. I was just about to call you. I'm taking Mia home to care for her, as per your grandfather's wishes. If you have any questions, ask him directly," Jennifer said, using the grandfather as leverage to pressure Lambert.
"Grandfather's still unconscious—when did he wake up?" Lambert asked pointedly, blocking their path.
"When he woke up isn't important. What matters is that the first person he wanted to see was me. He's not comfortable leaving Mia in your care. Also, this is Mia's wish. Don't believe me? Ask her."
Suddenly, Lambert's phone rang, cutting through the tense air and further raising the tension in the room.