Chapter 568 Leverage and Leverage Alone
Panic began to creep up on Paul. That number was the only contact he had that could yield fast, liquid capital.
Every other investment or new venture would take too long to turn a profit.
By the time any startup of his succeeded, the old man’s second child would probably already be born.
Paul didn’t have that kind of time. He messaged the number again – this time far more politely, humbly asking for another chance to invest.
But still, no reply.
He didn’t know if they were ignoring him on purpose or if his message was buried in spam and simply never read.
Whatever the reason, he couldn’t get through, and the missed opportunity gnawed at him with bitter regret.
He became obsessed with breaking through. One trillion…
Paul pulled up his account records. Since the Powell family had cut him off, his bank cards and dividends were frozen. All he had left was a few million in pocket money.
If he wanted to reach one trillion, he had no choice but to tap into the Powell family’s resources.
His eyes turned ruthless. “If the Powell family is just going to hand everything over to some bastard child in the end, then I might as well be the one to use it. I’ll make them see – Powell Corporation belongs to me and me alone.”
Yunice casually glanced at her phone and read the message Paul had sent her.
She knew it wouldn’t be long before he took the bait.
She wasn’t in any hurry.
The more thoroughly she vanished, the more desperate Paul would get – and the less he’d think.
“Bad news! Someone’s banging on the gate! Demanding to see Mr. Wyatt!”
Yunice raised a brow, mildly intrigued.
Who would be that bold?
The butler hesitated. “It’s someone from the Johnson family… Mr. Morgan and Madam Mary…”
He added, “Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal, but Madam Mary is elderly and not in great health. Both of them are insisting on staying out in this freezing weather. She looks like she’s about to collapse. If she faints at our door and Mr. Wyatt comes back…”
They all knew how Wyatt indulged the Johnson family. The staff had done their research.
If Madam Mary got hurt because they mishandled things, Wyatt might take it out on them.
Yunice gave a cold smile. "She knows she’s not well and still insists on freezing outside? That’s nothing but emotional blackmail."
She said, “How could we let Madam Mary stay out in the cold? Invite them in. Now!”
The butler bowed respectfully. “Madam Mary, Mr. Morgan, Ms. Yunice invites you to come inside and rest.”
Sitting in her wheelchair, Madam Mary gave him a sideways glance. “I came to see Mr. Wyatt. Who wants to see her? Where’s Wyatt?”
The butler was no fool. “Ma’am, Mr. Wyatt is still at work at this hour. Ms. Yunice is the only one available to receive you.”
Madam Mary folded her hands. “Is Yunice ill?”
“She’s perfectly healthy. I’m not sure why you would think otherwise, ma’am.”
Madam Mary sneered. “If she’s not sick, why didn’t she come greet me herself? Is this how she treats her elders?”
The butler’s lips pressed into a line. Even he could see she was being deliberately difficult.
“The Pavilion Hall is Mr. Wyatt and Ms. Yunice’s home,” he said calmly. “If she chooses not to come out, no one has the right to demand it.”
Wyatt had made that clear – Yunice was to be respected. If she couldn’t have a say in her own home, then what was the point of calling it a home? How could he claim to protect her?
Now that it was obvious Madam Mary had come here to stir trouble, the butler’s tone lost its earlier deference.
If she didn’t want to enter, then so be it.
He stood silently nearby, offering no further words.
Sure enough, after several seconds of silence, Madam Mary frowned and said stiffly, “Push me in.”
Only then did the butler step forward and wheel her into the Pavilion Hall.
As the wheelchair rolled across the carpet in the living room, Yunice stood inside, slowly pacing with a book in hand, murmuring lines aloud. She was reading a classic moral text.
Right as they entered, she deliberately read aloud, “Respecting elders is virtue…”
Madam Mary gave a pointed cough, clearly trying to draw attention to herself.
Morgan, standing behind her, glared at Yunice like she was a junior family member who had failed to show proper manners.
Yunice turned her head. Even when she saw them, she made no move to greet them warmly. Her tone was flat. “Mr. Morgan. Madam Mary. Mr. Wyatt won’t be home until after four. You’re welcome to wait here until then.”
Seeing Yunice holding a book, cool and distant, not making any friendly gesture at all, Madam Mary couldn’t resist putting on airs. “You’ve been married to Wyatt for so long. Has he never hired anyone to teach you proper etiquette?”
Yunice glanced at her book. “I’ve read the classics. They teach that elders and virtuous people should be respected. But only the virtuous, the righteous, the honest, and the kind are worthy of such respect. So tell me, Madam Johnson – who once schemed to frame my own brother – which of those virtues do you embody… to deserve my respect?”