Master of his heart (Max and Brielle)
Chapter 953

"Grandpa, you've seen the news online, haven't you?"

Michael, already hospitalized due to William's antics, now found himself coughing violently at the news. "Cough, cough, cough."

The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, making him feel disoriented. This room, which should have been familiar-the ancestral home of the Dorsey family-felt alien, tainted with the odors of alcohol and tobacco smoke. Shakily, he reached for his cane, intending to reprimand Antonio.

"Where the hell are the bodyguards?! All of you, get out here now!"

He mustered a shout, but the room remained eerily silent-no one listened.

Michael's pupils contracted as he stumbled back.

Antonio's lips curled into a smirk as he swirled the whiskey in his glass.

"Grandpa, save your strength. I've taken care of everything in the old house. You always looked down on me, seeing me as nothing more than a tool in your hands. Bet you never imagined that one day, the blade would turn on you." Shock was evident in Michael's eyes, disbelief etched on his face.

How could this be? He was the patriarch of the Dorsey family, with vast influence at his disposal. How could Antonio, a mere whelp, have outmaneuvered him?

"Antonio, what have you done?"

Antonio's eyes twinkled with amusement, quite pleased with the current state of affairs.

"Grandpa, I realized long ago that you weren't the ideal partner for me. So I chose a new ally, one with considerable clout. Look how quickly Dorsey International has fallen into my hands."

"You won't succeed! I'll never give you the shares! You only have twenty percent!"

"Indeed, I have a mere twenty percent, which is why, Grandpa, you should be wise and surrender the rest of your shares to me. Otherwise, you won't be leaving this house."

It seemed he intended to imprison Michael.

Michael thought he was hallucinating. Where on earth had Antonio gotten the audacity to do this? Had he lost his mind?

Refusing to believe it, Michael reached out to his old contacts, only to be met with dead silence.

What was going on? Why was this happening?

His phone nearly cracked under the pressure of his fingers, but he couldn't find anyone willing to aid him.

He sat on the couch, ghostly pale, his cane clattering to the floor.

Antonio produced the share transfer documents with a sly grin.

"Sign here, Grandpa, and I'll ensure you're well-cared for in your old age. If you resist, I'll have to deal with you the way I handled Dad. You can guess, can't you? I drove hinto his grave."

Michael trembled, feeling as though he had never truly known the man before him.

"Antonio, who are you in league with? Who has the power to do this?"

Michael had been in the game for years, no greenhorn like Antonio. He alone knew the terrifying extent of the power behind Antonio.

To play the Dorsey family like a fiddle, to push Antonio to patricide and then to usurpation-did Antonio realize he had become a sword in another's hand?

Hadn't Antonio resented being just a tool for Michael? And yet, how had he unwittingly become the instrument of another?

The last trace of color drained from Michael's face.

"Do you even know how formidable his influence is? I still have some people in the shadows. I tried to reach out to them just now, but there was no response. Antonio, you..." Impatience flickered across Antonio's face as he waved dismissively.

"Enough, Grandpa. Of course, I understand the power of this gentleman, which is why I've allied with him. Unlike you, he's willing to hand over the Dorsey family to me You always dangled empty

promises before me. For years, I did your dirty work, only to be rewarded with your flippant praise. Max was always your favorite. Look at him now-nothing. And here I am, climbing over him to the top.

"Grandpa, I won't let you end up like my father. You admired Max so much; now it's my turn. I've claimed the Dorsey family, and I need a witness. You'l be that witness Grandpa. You'll see firsthand how I've risen by stepping over Max."

With that, Antonio burst into laughter, oblivious to the darkness that had settled in Michael's eyes. Michael tasted blood, but he was not afraid or panicked; instead, he felt an eerie stillness, a cold sneer.