George said calmly, “Logan, take some men and send Joe on his way.”

As a seasoned veteran, he knew this was the time to eliminate threats completely. He knew that when you pulled weeds, you had to rip out the roots.

Joe might not have had a personal grudge with Andrew, but he still had to die.

Joe stood, staring at Andrew in grief. “I never thought you’d actually go through with it. Andrew, when did you become so cruel, so heartless?”

Andrew replied indifferently, “However you choose to see it is your business. But let me remind you, everything that happened today was brought on by the Driscoll family themselves.”

Joe’s face twisted with fury. “Fine then, kill me too!”

Eric sneered. “Andrew doesn’t have to move a finger! I’ll kill you myself!”

His thinking aligned with George’s. Joe could not be allowed to live, or Andrew’s path to becoming King of Gabo Creek would be haunted by seeds of vengeance.

Victória cut in sharply. “Everyone, stand aside. Joe, your father wasn’t killed by Andrew. Can’t you see the dagger in his chest? Your mother did that.”

Joe froze, realizing that Maurice’s death had driven him to temporary madness. Looking closer now, he recognized the distinctive pattern on the blade.

It was definitely Mia’s personal dagger.

“Mom…” he turned to stare at Mia in disbelief.

Mia’s eyes filled with tears, her hair disheveled as she teetered on the edge of complete breakdown. She laughed bitterly, “Fate… It’s all fate… My foolish child, didn’t I tell you to leave Blumedale for Goldridge? Why did you come back? Why return at this crucial moment?”

Her voice broke as she admitted, “Yes… I killed your father.”

Joe cried out in anguish, “Then I’ll kill you, you bitch!”

He raised his hand, ready to strike her down. Yet, at the last moment, his hand froze in the air.

He could not do it.

Mia’s lips trembled. “Foolish boy… Since it’s come to this, I’ll tell you the truth. Maurice was never your father. Your real father… was Franklin Gurney.”

Joe exploded with fury, “Bitch, do you think I’ll believe such lies? I’m Maurice Driscoll’s son, I’m a Driscoll, and everyone else means nothing to me!”

Tears streamed down Mia’s face as all strength left her body, and she collapsed to the ground, holding her head as she wept. “It’s all karma, nothing but terrible karma! Joe, I know you can’t accept this, but the fact remains… You are Franklin’s son.

“Your last name should be Gurney, not Driscoll. I’ve deceived you all these years. I’m sorry, truly sorry…”

The revelation hit Joe like a thunderbolt, his face flushing red before he spat out a mouthful of bright crimson blood.

Victoria sighed softly. “In the end, he’s nothing more than a pitiful soul.”

“Pitiful soul? Mrs. Peck, I beg to differ.”

A mocking laugh echoed, brazen and sharp.

Heavy footsteps echoed as two rows of figures marched out from the inner courtyard in perfect formation. The man in the center was unremarkable in build with tanned skin, but his presence radiated an overwhelming sense of authority.

“This world is full of lies and tragedies. Fathers, mothers, even sons… it all boils down to five words: you reap what you sow.”

His voice dripped with venom as he continued, “Mia was a whore in her youth, but Maurice wasn’t much better. A supposedly noble family heir who chose to marry such trash? He got exactly what he deserved!”

The cruel mockery hung in the air as the Special Ops agents flanked both sides, their intimidating presence dominating the scene.

George’s eyes sharpened while Eric’s expression grew grave. None of them had expected another group to be lying in wait within the Driscoll compound.

These men in black were not just anyone. They were elite, and every one of them was at least martial king level.

Victoria’s eyes narrowed before she let out a cold laugh. “So it’s you, Mr. Hale.”