At 10:30 p.m., Julian Bennett arrived at Hillcrest Manor.
At this hour in Porten Hills, the night was thick, and the faint chirping of cicadas could still be heard.
The car came to a smooth stop before the long flight of steps. The butler hurried forward, opened the rear door, and said with the utmost respect, "Mr. Julian."
Julian Bennett stepped out of the car, patted Vincent on the shoulder, and grinned conspiratorially. "So, what's the damage report?"
Vincent's expression was blank. "You'll see when you go inside."
"Is my uncle back yet?"
"He arrived an hour ago."
"Hasn't Grandpa laid a hand on him yet?"
"You'll see when you go inside," Vincent repeated.
Julian Bennett raised an eyebrow and followed him inside.
'As far back as he could remember, he'd never seen Nathan Bennett take a beating. Unlike him—he got intimately acquainted with Grandpa's disciplinary cane every other week.'
'Today, he'd finally get to see a real show.'
"Grandpa!"
