Chapter 396

"What condition?"

"I want my father's ashes."

Benjamin's remains had always been kept by the Whitmore family. Harrison had requested them before, but they refused to surrender them.

The mention of Benjamin made the expressions of everyone in the room darken.

"What's the problem? I'm his daughter. Don't I have the right to claim his ashes?" Harrison's voice was steady, but edged with steel. "You never treated him as family, so why cling to his ashes now? Here's the choice—keep them, or protect the Whitmore family's interests. Decide."

Margaret's shrewd, clouded eyes locked onto Harrison's face. She realized her granddaughter had truly transformed.

"Fine. You can have Benjamin's ashes," Margaret finally conceded.

Victoria immediately clutched Margaret's sleeve. "Mother!"

Harrison caught their subtle exchange and let out a cold laugh. "You're this upset over me taking my father's ashes? Is there something you're hiding?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Victoria snapped. "His ashes have always been in the family hall. I just don't want you disturbing his rest."

Harrison's smile was sharp, dripping with mockery. "You've disturbed his peace for years. You trapped him in the Whitmore estate—was it so he could watch his wife and brother betray him while his own daughter was abandoned?"

Victoria froze. "How dare you!"

Harrison's gaze swept over the Whitmores.

Benjamin had bought their mansion, paid for Theodore's education, and mentored Frederick in business.

What had they ever given him in return?

"All these years, you've lived in luxury, standing on my father's grave. Tell me—when you lie awake at night, don't you ever fear he'll return to face you?"

Her words struck like a hammer. The Whitmores paled, their faces turning ashen.

Unease flickered in their eyes. Some couldn't even meet her piercing stare.

Isabella and Penelope, younger and less burdened by guilt, didn't grasp the weight of the moment.

Isabella cut in impatiently. "Harrison, enough! We'll give you the ashes—but only after you deal with the fake Dr. Sinclair!"

Penelope nodded. "Exactly. Frankly, we don't believe you can solve this. Prove it first, then you get the ashes. Fair?"

They weren't fools—they wanted guarantees.

Harrison arched a brow. "Fine. Agreed."

"How long will this take? We can only give you three days. No more," Margaret demanded.

"Our money is at stake. Every day we wait, the losses grow. Three days is all you get."

Nathaniel studied Harrison intently. "Three days. Do you really think you can catch this imposter in that time?"

Harrison shook her head.

Isabella sneered. "You can't do it? Then this is just a trick?"

Harrison met her gaze, calm. "I shook my head because I won't need three days. I'll bring the fake Dr. Sinclair to you by tomorrow."

"What?"

Margaret's voice rose with excitement. "You can find him that fast? You're not lying?"