NovelStartAt that moment, Cecil was in total shock! The media had gotten in touch with him for confirmation, and upon learning that the designs were indeed his son's work, their tone shifted tically, showering him with congratulations and telling him he had struck gold! Even talent agencies were reaching out, hoping to sign Emmett early.
And studios were inquiring if Emmett had more designs to sell, willing to pay top dollar for them.
Cecil could hardly believe it. Just two drawings had caused such a sensation! "Good Lord, this is like hitting the jackpot!" he thought. "No wonder they don't want to give back our son; they've seen the golden opportunity! Damn it, I must get Emmett back, make him draw day and night to fill my pockets!" Claire too saw the news online.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtShe was over the moon about her son's success and was quite excited.
"Cecil, they're saying our son could be a huge star! We can't ruin his future; we should let him stay with Ms. Thorne and let them nurture his talent." Cecil frowned, "What do you know? This talent is our son's own, nothing to do with them! He can make it big without any external grooming! It's all thanks to my genes!" Claire shrank back, whispering, "Ms. Thorne and Mr. Bradford aren't bad people, we... we shouldn't burn bridges with them. For Emmett's sake, they won't leave us in the lurch, we..." "Nonsense! Only by taking a stand can we demand a hefty sum with dignity!" "But if we make a scene, I... I'm afraid our son might end up hating us..." "He owes his life to me; dare he hate us? If he dares, that's ingratitude! I could disown him!" Cecil scoffed arrogantly, his phone suddenly ringing. He glanced at the caller ID, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
He turned to Claire and barked, "I'm stepping out. You stay put in the ward and don't go spreading rumors!" "Get this straight, if I'm living well, that's when you and your son can live well too." "Don't count on anyone but me. We are family, got it?" Claire nodded meekly, fear evident in her eyes.
Cecil, satisfied, huffed and left with his phone.
Not burn bridges? Ha! Without pushing them, how much could he possibly squeeze out of them? Only by playing hardball could he demand a king's ransom! As long as he had Emmett, the little goldmine, they wouldn't dare not pay up. Could they really stand to see Emmett living in poverty under his care? After all, Emmett was a cash cow! No matter what, he had to get him back! If his drawings could earn money, then he should be drawing everet single day. Dare not to, and he'd feel back of my hand! Conte belongs to Cecil stepped out to take the call, which was from one of his gambling buddies.
Right off the bat, his friend was laying it on thick, envious of Cecil's newfound fortune and his suddenly valuable son.
"Cecil, everyone's heard about your stroke of luck. We're all waiting.
congratulate you. Con bring sof that good foo way." and our
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmCecil was on cloud nine, never in his thirty years had he felt so glorious! Elated, he headed straight for the casino.
But little did he know, banking solely on that blood relation and custody rights, he thought he could do as he pleased! He thought he could manipulate Elysia and Tarquin.
He had no idea just how out of his depth he really was! As soon as Cecil arrived at the casino, Tarquin got wind of it.
"Tarquin, he took the bait." Tarquin's eyes gleamed ominously,
"Record everything, keep it for later.
And don't leave him a dwin Back Le att of Emmett's money and donate it!" mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLliI0fiflO&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLliIofifl0&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1
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