Chapter 670

"Fine, you have your plans." Ethan Roscente leaned against the kitchen doorframe, hands in his pockets. "But why are you so sure Oliver and I will willingly guard the Sullivan Group for you?"

Liam Sullivan paused his stirring and turned his head. "What do you mean?"

"The Sullivan Group is your family's business, not the Roscentes' or the Winstons'." Ethan smirked, his tone tinged with nonchalance. "Why should we shoulder that heavy responsibility?"

He spread his hands, adopting an "it's not my problem" stance.

Liam's brow furrowed. He tried to reason patiently. "You and Oliver are my brothers. You wouldn't abandon loyalty."

The three had grown up together. They knew the Sullivan Group's operations and core secrets inside out.

Entrusting it to them gave Liam peace of mind.

Right now, he just wanted to focus on making it up to Vivian Bennett, without distractions.

Ethan scoffed. "You're the one disregarding brotherhood. Why should we rush to slave away? The Sullivan Group is a massive operation. We'd be the ones working ourselves to the bone, while you hide here, carefree with a spatula."

He paused, his gaze sharpening. "We're not fools. Whoever wants that thankless job can have it."

Liam felt a tightness in his chest. He glared at Ethan but couldn't refute him.

"I know it's unfair to you," Liam said, softening his tone. "Most of the Sullivan Group's annual dividends can be transferred to your names."

Ethan's expression darkened instantly. "You think we're doing this for money?"

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Liam, if you come back, we'll help you without taking a cent. If you don't, forget it."

He turned sideways, his tone resolute. "If you're giving up and letting everything fall apart, we'll let it fall too. It's your call."

Liam clenched the spatula. Neither threats nor incentives were working.

"Do you really have the heart to watch the Sullivan Group drift without a helm?" Liam stared at him. "The Sullivan Group has your sweat and blood too. Compared to me, you have more attachment to it."

He paused, his voice dropping. "I admit, in my heart, the Sullivan Group can't compare to a woman."

Ethan's pupils contracted, disappointment flashing in his eyes.

For that woman, he could abandon the family enterprise?

She wasn't worth it.

"Fine." Ethan took a deep breath. "If you won't come back, that's okay. Oliver and I will step down. We'll ask the Patriarch to come out of retirement and take charge."

He turned around, enunciating each word. "If you can bear to watch him, in his frail health, clean up your mess and collapse under the responsibility you should be carrying—"

Ethan looked back, his eyes icy. "Then Oliver and I will act as if we never had a brother like you."

With that, he slammed the door and left.

Liam stood frozen in place for a long time.

Finally, he gritted his teeth and threw the spatula onto the countertop.

Was he going to leave her behind again?

Early morning, Vivian Bennett opened her door.

The doorway was empty.

No warm breakfast waited there as usual.

She froze for a moment, an inexplicable emptiness opening in her heart.

Perhaps she had been alone for too long.

Having severed all family and friendly ties, even the slightest care was enough to shake her.

At noon, she opened the door again.

Still, there was nothing.

The faint hope in her heart gradually sank.

Unwarranted kindness, as expected, never lasted.

Evening. Her phone vibrated.

The doorbell rang immediately.

Vivian's eyes sharpened. She pulled a gun from a drawer and moved silently to the door.

Through the peephole, a young man in a hooded sweatshirt stood outside, holding a takeout box.

Her gaze flickered. She unlocked the door with a click.

The man slipped inside.

"Where is it?" Vivian whispered.

The man retrieved a small black box from the bottom layer of the takeout container. "The latest micro-bomb. Everything within a ten-meter blast radius turns to dust."

He added, "No remains, no traces."

Vivian's face was cold as she inspected it.

"Acceptable."

She took out her phone, logged into her bank account, and transferred a large sum.

The man's phone vibrated. He answered, then nodded. "Payment received. Pleasure doing business."

He put his phone away and gave Vivian a once-over. "I shouldn't ask... but you're a woman. Who did you cross to need to erase all traces to this extent?"

"Someone who shouldn't be alive." Vivian's eyes turned frigid. "Go now. Don't let anyone see you."

The man shrugged, opened the door, and tossed a final remark before leaving. "There are quite a few bodyguards stationed around you. Are they protecting you, or watching you?"

Vivian's face changed. She quickly shut the door.

She turned on the TV.

The news was broadcasting a story about the Sullivan family—Isabella Sullivan's attempted suicide.

Vivian sneered.

A performance.

A woman like Isabella Sullivan would commit suicide?

It was just a show for the public.

In a few days, she'd appear before the media, pitiful and seeking sympathy.

But Isabella definitely knew Vivian was the one who leaked the information.

It had caused an uproar.

Old hatred with new grievances added.

Vivian had waited in this small apartment for so long, yet Isabella's retaliation never came.

Her plans couldn't advance.

The man's words echoed in her ears.

Liam's people were outside.

They had been protecting her, preventing Isabella's people from getting close.

Damn it.

Why was he still looking out for her now?

He was only ruining her plans.

This couldn't go on.

Vivian walked to a cabinet, fished out a few pills, and swallowed them with water.

Then she picked up her phone and silently dialed Liam Sullivan's number.