FAR FROM HOME

I want the truth

Creg, One of the Anderson siblings suddenly stepped forward, his face twisted with contempt.

“I always knew you were nothing but a lowly bastard, Soren, but I never expected you to return after ten years and act as though you were someone important.”

He glanced toward Luther before continuing.

“And whatever happened to that useless blind man, Charles, has nothing to do with you anymore. He's dead. The family has already buried him, so why are you still digging into his death?”

Soren's expression remained cold.

Creg stepped closer, clearly emboldened by the support of the other Anderson family members.

“Look around you. This family has already chosen its heir. Luther is the one who matters now. Charles was weak, useless, and incapable of doing anything for the Anderson family. You should have stayed away instead of coming back here and causing trouble.”

Several Anderson siblings nodded in agreement.

Cyrus sneered. “He's right. You were nothing more than an outsider whom Grandfather took pity on.”

Cyrus grew bolder when he realized he had everyone's attention.

“You should be on your knees apologizing to Luther for the way you have behaved tonight. Instead, you came here acting like some great man just because you spent a few years in the military.”

He laughed.

“Do you really think wearing a uniform makes you an Anderson?”

Soren looked at him quietly.

There was no anger on his face.

That was what made Lucus's expression change.

He knew that look.

It was the same expression Soren wore before making a decision on the battlefield.

Cyrus continued speaking.

“You were brought into this family because your parents died. You should have been grateful. Instead, you became an ungrateful bastard and now you have returned to insult everyone.”

Soren's eyes remained fixed on him.

Cyrus pointed at him.

“What are you staring at?”

Soren finally spoke.

“You should have stopped talking when you mentioned Charles.”

Cyrus sneered.

“Why? What are you going to do?”

Soren did not answer.

His right hand slowly moved beneath his coat.

Lucus noticed the movement but said nothing.

Cyrus took another step forward.

“You think I'm afraid of you?”

“No.”

Soren's voice was calm.

“You should be afraid of yourself.”

Cyrus frowned.

“What does that mean?”

Soren looked directly into his eyes.

“It means you have already made your last mistake.”

Cyrus's expression changed.

Soren's right hand disappeared beneath his coat.

Cyrus barely had time to frown before Soren moved.

A flash of steel appeared between them.

Cyrus's eyes widened. He looked down, then back at Soren as though he couldn't understand what had happened.

The wine glass slipped from his fingers and shattered against the marble floor.

His knees gave way, and he collapsed onto the marble floor.

The entire hall fell silent.

Nobody moved.

Nobody breathed.

Cyrus slowly collapsed.

A woman screamed.

Several guests stumbled backward, while others stood frozen around the table.

Luther stared at Soren in disbelief.

“You actually killed him?”

Soren barely glanced at Cyrus's body.

“I already warned him.”

He looked back at Luther.

“I hate repeating myself.”

His voice suddenly became louder.

“So I'll ask again. How did Charles Anderson die?”

Luther was about to respond, stepping forward with anger burning in his eyes, when a stern voice suddenly echoed through the hall.

“What is going on here? Who is causing such a disturbance in my house?”

Every head turned toward the entrance, and the conversations that had filled the hall immediately died away.

Someone whispered, “The Anderson Matriarch has arrived.”

Luther's anger disappeared instantly. He straightened his clothes and quickly turned toward the entrance before walking over to her.

“Welcome, Grandmother.”

He respectfully helped her toward the main seat, his expression changed.

The Anderson Matriarch slowly lowered herself into the chair.

Her gaze swept across the hall, taking in everything in front of her. She noticed the blood staining the marble floor, Bertram standing nearby while clutching his broken wrist, the frightened expressions of the guests, and finally the body lying several feet away.

Her expression became cold.

“Who did this?”

Nobody answered.

The matriarch was dressed in a deep emerald gown that reached the floor, with a finely embroidered silk shawl draped over her shoulders. Her silver hair was pulled neatly behind her head, while the diamonds around her neck glittered beneath the crystal chandeliers. Even though she was already old, there was still an unmistakable authority in her eyes that made the surrounding guests lower their voices.

Her gaze moved toward Luther.

“Luther, tell me exactly what happened here.”

Luther's lips parted, but for the first time that evening, he couldn't immediately find the words.

His eyes shifted toward Soren.

The matriarch noticed the movement and slowly followed his gaze.

The moment her eyes landed on Soren, she froze.

She recognized him immediately.

The years had changed his appearance, but they had not erased his identity from her memory. 

“Soren?”

Soren looked at her calmly.

“It's been a long time, Grandmother.”

A wave of whispers spread through the guests.

The matriarch ignored the whispers.

Her eyes remained fixed on Soren, and the longer she looked at him, the colder her expression became.

“You caused all of this?”

“You disappear from this family for ten years, and the first thing you do after returning is turn my birthday celebration into a crime scene?”

Her voice grew colder.

“You should have known better than to bring this kind of disgrace into the Anderson Estate.”

Soren's expression remained unchanged.

The old woman slowly raised her chin, her eyes filled with authority.

“You had better give me a reason, Soren.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't have you dragged outside, your throat cut, and your head hung from the main gate as a warning to anyone who dares challenge the Anderson family. Whatever remains of your body can be left for the dogs.”

The guests fell completely silent.

Nobody doubted that she meant every word.

Luther's lips curled into a faint smile.

He clearly believed the matter was already settled.

Soren took another step forward.

“Then let's make it mutual, Grandmother.”

His voice remained calm, but the coldness behind it made several people instinctively hold their breath.

“You want a reason for what happened tonight?”

His eyes moved across the Anderson family.

“Then give me a reason for Charles Anderson's death.”

Luther's expression changed immediately.

Soren continued before anyone could interrupt him.

“I don't care how powerful this family has become. I don't care how many politicians are sitting in this hall or how many people are willing to bow when you speak.”

His gaze returned to the Matriarch.

“My brother is dead, and I want to know why.”

He paused.

“If you can give me the answer, I'll leave.”

His eyes became colder.

“But if you can't, I'll find the answer myself.”

Nobody spoke.

Soren looked at the Anderson family one person at a time.

“And when I find the person responsible, I won't care who they are.”

“A servant.”

“An Anderson.”

“Or someone sitting at this table.”

His voice dropped dangerously low.

“I will bury them.”

The Matriarch's expression hardened.

Soren didn't look away.

“And if Charles's death leads back to this family, then this won't be the last Anderson birthday celebration that gets interrupted.”

He glanced around the enormous hall.

“It will be the last one this family ever celebrates.”