My Harem Will Help Me Get My Revenge-Chapter 68: [ - - 60] - Grandmother

Chapter - 60

As Lucius stepped out of the Police station, the air outside was thick with smoke and smelt of blood. Shattered glass crunched under Lucius’s boots as he stepped out of the ruined police station, the broken doors behind him hanging like crooked jaws.

His hands and clothes were still stained with blood. Some of it was his, but most of it belonged to those masked men. His collar was torn, his hair disheveled, and a strange, euphoric calm had taken hold of him. He rolled his neck once, cracked his knuckles, and turned down the dark alley beside the station.

But while he was lost in his own triumph, that’s when he almost bumped into someone.

Lucius froze, hand halfway to the hidden knife he had smuggled out of the police station in his coat. But when he saw the man standing before him he stopped.

He was the familiar, Old, silent and dead-eyed old man who he met in Udaipur, and with whom he flew back across half the world.

And like always, he was still dressed in a crisp, spotless suit that looked immune to the dust and chaos around them. His silver hair was combed back neatly. His pale face emotionless, his sharp eyes just... watched.

"I thought you left," Lucius said with a grin, "But it looks like you have fallen for my charms."

The man didn’t smile.

Instead, he slowly looked Lucius up and down. He looked at the blood, the cuts, the wild glint in his eyes and gave a dry, unimpressed shake of his head.

"Messy," the butler said, voice calm and cold as a glacier, "Very... expressive. Like a monkey flinging paint."

Lucius chuckled, "Aw, come on, give me some credit. That was art. Don’t lump my work with that of those brutes."

The old man raised an eyebrow, "It was amateur at best."

Lucius tilted his head, amused, "You were watching?"

"I am always watching."

"Then you could have offered me a hand," Lucius wryly smiled, "Didn’t your mistress send you to protect me?"

But the old man just turned and walked toward a long black luxury car parked by the curb, untouched by the surrounding chaos.

He opened the back door without a word. He kept the door open, clearly indicating Lucius to shut it and get in.

Lucius gave him a playful salute, "Chauffeur, stalker, babysitter... What’s next? Are you going to tuck me in my bed too?"

Still no reply.

Lucius sighed dramatically and slid into the back seat, sprawled across the soft leather like he owned the car.

The butler shut the door behind him, took the front passenger seat beside the driver, and gave a single nod. The engine purred to life, and the car glided away from the blood-soaked ruins.

And just as they left, behind them, the distant wails of sirens pierced the silence, slowly growing louder.

Inside the car, Lucius tried to spark conversation, "Nice wheels. Have you ever thought of retiring? What do you think Iris will get you?"

Silence.

"No? Not a talker, huh?" freewebnσvel.cøm

More silence.

"You know, for someone who judges my blood splatter technique, you are kinda lacking in charisma points, old man."

Nothing.

Lucius sighed, "Okay. Be mysterious. Even I don’t want to talk to you."

He leaned his head back, watching the city blur by through tinted windows, but his mind kept drifting.

The old man hadn’t just shown up randomly. He’d been following. Watching. Waiting.

’It is so hard to get anything out of these Levain people.’

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After nearly an hour of driving through winding roads and forested outskirts, the car rolled through tall iron gates and up the long driveway of a massive estate.

Lucius whistled low as the mansion came into view. No matter how many times he saw it. It was always breath-taking.

As the car pulled to a stop in front of the grand entrance, Lucius was the first to get out.

He adjusted his clothes and looked back toward the butler.

"Hey, thanks for the ride. You are not a bad guy, you know that?"

"You should just smile more. Might shave a century off your age."

The old man didn’t even glance at him.

Lucius rolled his eyes and turned to the mansion.

The moment he stepped inside, his boots echoed across the marble floor.

The hall was quiet. Too quiet.

The old man didn’t even glance at him.

But the silence was not the kind of silence you would find in empty places, but the kind cultivated over years of discipline and control.

The moment Lucius stepped inside, his boots echoed sharply through the vast space. Each step disturbed the peace and quiet of the space.

And that’s then he saw it.

In the center of the hall, seated regally on a thick cushioned chaise draped in a red dress, was an old woman. Her silver hair was tied neatly in a low bun. Her eyes were shut, her breathing calm. She had leaned back in a relaxed manner, yet her presence was unmistakably commanding.

But what surprised Lucius was that at her feet, kneeling with her head slightly bowed, was Iris Levain.

’Is she the most revered Grandmother?’

And was that the reason that Iris wasn’t wearing her usual composed, elegant expression?

Because she looked humbled. Dressed in a White coat and pants with her sleeves rolled up. She gently massaged the old woman’s feet with silent dedication. Her hands moved with familiarity, care, and reverence. It looked like someone who had done this a thousand times.

Around them stood six maids and two male attendants, all lined on either of their sides. No one spoke. No one even dared to breathe loudly.

The serenity of the moment clashed violently with Lucius’s appearance. His shirt was blood-stained and half untucked, sleeves were torn, neck was bruised. There was dirt on his collar, and hair tousled like he had crawled out of a war zone.

And yet, he stood there, unbothered and curious.

Iris was the first to turn her head toward the door when she heard his steps. Her gaze met his and her expression shifted instantly.

There was displeasure, disbelief. A tiny crease appeared between her brows.

Lucius gave her a slow, two-fingered salute and grinned like a kid caught sneaking into a party.

Behind him, the old butler had quietly stepped in and leaned close, whispering coldly, "Master Lucius... please go and change. Immediately."

But Lucius could care less. He just kept walking forward, step by step, his boots clicking loudly in defiance. The butler’s gaze hardened.

Iris, still kneeling in front of the old woman, subtly shook her head, trying to signal him to stop, to turn around and leave.

But Lucius was in no mood to follow cues today.

He stopped only a few feet from the old woman. Her eyes were still closed. Her expression unchanged.

Lucius opened his mouth to introduce himself, but the old woman spoke first.

"Iris," the old woman spoke softly, her voice smooth like warm silk, "Is this the boy you fished out of the sea?"

Her eyes remained shut, her head unmoved.

"Yes, Grandma," Iris answered instantly. Her tone was respectful. Flat. Controlled.

The old lady exhaled slowly.

"Stubborn eyes," she murmured, "Wild blood."

Lucius tilted his head slightly, "I was going to say something cool. But now I feel like a lab rat under a microscope."

A faint smile touched the corners of the old woman’s mouth.

"Do you know," she said calmly, "that when I was twelve, I once slit a man’s throat for touching my sister’s anklet?"

"How would I know?" Lucius blinked innocently, "We have met for the first time."

Iris remained motionless, her eyes lowered again.

"Men like you, with fire behind your teeth," the old woman continued, still not opening her eyes, "either burn the world down... or burn themselves trying."

Lucius rubbed the back of his neck, his smile a bit more reserved now, "And here I thought I was being charming."

"Iris," the old woman said again, "what did I say about stray dogs?"

"They bite first and regret later," Iris replied.

"Mm." A pause, "And yet you brought one home."

"It felt like the right choice at that time."

"Choice is the first thing we give up when we decide to lead," the old woman said. Then she tilted her head slightly, "Stand up, child."

Iris stood immediately.

Lucius glanced at her, then back to the matriarch, "So, are we gonna pretend I am not standing right here or...?"

The old woman’s fingers flexed slowly.

Then she spoke again, softly, "What do you want from her?"

Lucius shrugged, "Dunno yet. Maybe trouble. Maybe tea."

"Trouble is easier to make," she said. "Tea requires patience."

Lucius chuckled. "Guess I am halfway there."

She was silent again for a few moments.

Then, without opening her eyes, she said to Iris, "Keep him away from your uncle. He might kill him without meaning to."

Iris smiled, "I am not sure that’s a bad thing."

"How heartless!" Lucius exclaimed, acting hurt.

Then a sharp cough from the butler echoed across the room—a single, deliberate sound.

It was a signal.

Lucius glanced at him, then back at the old woman.

"Guess that’s my cue," he said.

He took a final look at Iris, gave her a mock bow, and turned to walk toward the staircase.

But just as he passed behind the old woman, a strange shift occurred.

She opened her eyes.

For the first time.

They were milky silver with dark, glinting pupils, eyes that had seen almost everything imaginable.

And as Lucius passed, her hand instinctively touched the fabric over her chest.

A single gasp left her lips, barely audible.

Surprise.

Recognition.

Fear?

Lucius too paused. Even he sensed something, but didn’t look back. He simply climbed the stairs two at a time, whistling softly to himself.

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