hapter 195 The Grip Of Fury 

Before everyone’s eyes, Julius simply closed his hand around Melvin’s neck. 

Melvin struggled, trying to pry those fingers away, but Julius’s grip was like a steel bar–utterly immovable. 

Melvin’s face turned a deep, suffocated red before the onlookers finally snapped from their stupor. 

“Julius, let go! My dad can’t breathe!” Marley rushed forward. “Even if you’re sticking up for Quinn, you can’t do this!” 

<Sticking up for her?> Julius lowered his lashes almost lazily. 

He simply didn’t want Quinn’s hands to be dirtied; if someone needed to act, he could act for her. 

When he showed no sign of releasing, Marley turned her ire on Quinn. “Quinn, you’re disgusting— actually using Julius to do something like this!” 

Moldred added, “Quinn, whatever the dispute, tell Julius to let your Uncle Melvin go first!” 

Julius lifted his gaze to Quinn. “Do you want me to let him go?” 

It was as though, should she answer no, he would simply take Melvin’s life then and there. 

Every eye in the room shifted to Quinn, tension coiling in the air. 

Quinn’s heart gave a hard thump. She knew Julius understood the legal consequences of killing a man, yet he still handed the decision over to her. 

“Let him go,” she said quietly. 

“All right.” Julius obeyed, uncurling his fingers. 

Melvin staggered back several steps. Pointing at Quinn in humiliated fury, he shouted, “How dare you let Julius humiliate me like this! If you don’t apologize, I’ll—” 

Bang! 

The fist landed squarely against Melvin’s torso, knocking the wind out of him. 

Melvin went down hard, slamming face–first onto the floorboards, sprawling there in complete disgrace. 

Marley exploded. “Quinn, how dare you hit my dad?” 

“Why wouldn’t I dare?” Quinn lifted her chin and shot back, “Even if he’s my uncle, the moment he insults my parents or my brother, I’ll beat him all the same! My dad didn’t ‘die young–he sacrificed himself for the country. My brother isn’t ‘doomed‘ either–he’s a soldier carrying out a mission for the nation. As long as no one produces his body, then my brother is still alive!” 

Her words reverberated in the room. 

Instantly, the entire room fell deathly silent. 

Marley’s brows knit together. No matter how much resentment she held toward Quinn, at this moment, Quinn’s declaration left her neither able nor willing to argue back. 

1/2 

After all, the ceremony where Quinn’s parents‘ ashes were interred at the Hero’s Memorial Garden was still vivid in Marley’s memory. 

Behind Quinn stood the military district–and the government itself. 

Moldred spoke up. “Melvin, apologize to Quinn!” 

“What?” Melvin stared, completely thrown. “Moldred, you want me to apologize to her?” 

“Yes, apologize.” Moldred’s tone was sharp as a chisel striking stone. “They won’t allow you to speak that way.” 

Melvin bristled. “What did I say that was wrong? If her family were still around, I’d never touch the fifth branch’s old house. But they’re gone, and Bridger property must never land in a woman’s hands. This girl keeps insisting her brother’s still alive–clearly she just wants to hog the family assets!” 

“Enough!” A stern shout cracked through the air from the doorway, followed by the heavy thump of a cane striking the floor. 

Everyone jumped. Murren, leaning on his cane, stepped through the door. 

“Grandpa, weren’t you still recuperating? Why did you come all the way here?” Moldred hurried forward. 

“If I hadn’t come, would I never know what you people are up to?” Murren fumed. “You’ve even got the gall to covet the fifth branch’s property! Wonderful–truly wonderful. When did the Bridger family become like this?” 

Feeling awkward, Moldred rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d known the old house was slated for demolition, but he’d left every detail to Melvin. Only today did he realize his cousin had transferred the house and the entire relocation payout into his own name. 

“Grandpa, that old house belongs to the Bridger family, and inheritance goes through the sons, not the daughters. Quinn’s just a girl–what right does she have to claim it? There’s no one left in the fifth branch; I took the place, what’s wrong with that?” Melvin still argued brazenly. 

Smack! 

The old man’s palm cracked across Melvin’s cheek. “No one in the fifth branch? Isn’t Quinn part of the fifth branch? That house belongs to her. If you dare set your sights on it again, get out of the Bridger family!” 

Melvin clutched his stinging face, furious yet too cowed to utter another word. 

Murren turned to Quinn. “Quinn, I’m sorry. This old great–grandfather failed to raise your uncles properly and let you suffer such grievances. But rest assured–anything that belongs to the fifth branch, if they so much as touch a corner of it, I’ll treat it as though the Bridger family never had them at all.” 

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