Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 250: storming the Luther Estate

The Luther Family ancestral home.

Two armed factions stood in a tense standoff, guns pointed at each other, the air thick with impending violence.

Yet upon closer inspection, it was clear that the defenders of the Luther mansion were outnumbered and outgunned—caught completely off guard. freewēbnoveℓ.com

"Samson," Uncle Carlos’s gaze cut through the barrel of the gun pressed against his forehead, locking onto Samson.

"Grandpa has always treated you well."

"And I’ve returned the favor," Samson smirked, his expression oozing smug malice.

"Otherwise, I wouldn’t have rushed here in the rain to bid grandpa farewell—just in time for his final moments."

Uncle Carlos’s face darkened with fury, his lips parting to retort—

But before he could speak, a cold-eyed man stepped forward from behind Samson.

"Mr. Samson," the man said, his voice low and ominous as he stared at Uncle Carlos.

"Enough delays.

We have more pressing matters to attend to."

"Who knows if this Carlos fellow is just stalling for time, waiting for reinforcements?"

The moment he laid eyes on the man, a flicker of shock darted through uncle Carlos’s deep-set eyes.

Norris—was he one of Samson’s men?

So, the whole mess with Margaret and Tyler must have been his doing as well.

"You’re right," Samson muttered, his expression darkening as he considered how many hidden assets the Luther Family’s main branch might still have.

Without another word, he cocked his pistol and pressed it firmly against Uncle Carlos’s back.

"Lead the way.

One more useless word out of you, and I’ll blow your brains out right here."

If it weren’t for the fact that Carlos still had his uses, he would have killed him long ago.

Uncle Carlos’s jaw tightened.

This time, he said nothing, guiding Samson toward the main house.

Meanwhile, Norris hurried toward the rear courtyard with a group of men, his face etched with urgency.

The sight of Samson marching in with a gun pressed to uncle Carlos’s back sent the servants in the living room into a panic, their faces drained of color.

What in the world was happening? Was Samson staging a coup?!

"What are you all standing around for?"

Uncle Carlos said in a low, grave voice,

"Everyone, get back to your rooms—now!"

If not for fear of arousing Samson’s suspicion, the grandpa would have temporarily dismissed all the servants from the estate to spare them unnecessary harm.

"Y-yes, sir..."

The servants, snapping out of their daze, nodded hurriedly and dropped what they were doing, turning to leave.

**BANG!**

Samson raised his gun and fired at the vase displayed in the living room.

Shards of porcelain exploded in all directions.

The servants shrieked in terror, dropping to the floor with their hands over their heads, too terrified to even breathe.

Uncle Carlos pressed his lips into a thin line, his expression unreadable.

"Stay right where you are," Samson commanded coldly, his dark, chilling gaze sweeping over them.

"One wrong move, and you’ll end up just like that vase."

He turned to his men and snapped, "Keep an eye on them."

Who knew if these people would try to call for help the moment they were out of sight?

He wouldn’t allow his carefully laid plans to be ruined by these insignificant ants.

"Yes, sir!" The assassins nodded coldly, their weapons trained on the trembling servants who dared not make a sound.

Samson, followed by several killers, trailed behind Uncle Carlos as they made their way upstairs.

Their footsteps halted outside the room.

Uncle Carlos looked at Samson with an unreadable expression.

"Grandpa is inside."

Samson narrowed his eyes at the closed door before him, his heart swelling with indescribable excitement.

All he needed was for that old fool to press his fingerprint onto the contract, and everything belonging to the Luther Family’s main bloodline would be his.

But excitement aside, Samson hadn’t completely lost his wits or vigilance.

"Carlos, you open the door."

Uncle Carlos gave him a glance but said nothing.

Obediently, he stepped forward and pushed the door open.

The scene inside the room unfolded before Samson and his men.

The room was packed with medical equipment.

A dozen doctors bustling around Grandpa Luther’s sickbed froze mid-action as the door burst open.

Their faces paled at the sight of Uncle Carlos and Samson’s armed entourage.

*So the intel was right—the old man’s on his last breath.*

Samson’s shoulders relaxed imperceptibly.

"Guard the door," he ordered the assassins in a low, steely voice.

"Shoot anyone who approaches."

"The rest—inside with me."

"Yes, sir!"

No one noticed Uncle Carlos’s fleeting glance at the medical staff.

The concern in his eyes hardened into lethal resolve.

As the door clicked shut, gunfire erupted simultaneously inside and outside the room.

The metallic tang of blood began permeating the air.

At the Backyard Norris was intimately familiar with the old mansion, leading his men straight to where Margaret and Tyler were being held.

Whether driven by desperation to rescue them or blinded by overconfidence, he didn’t question why such a crucial area was left completely unguarded, allowing them to waltz in without resistance.

"Mmph—mmph!"

The moment Margaret spotted Norris, her lifeless eyes suddenly lit up.

She let out muffled, frantic cries, her face twisted with emotion.

Beside her, Tyler—bruised and battered—also widened his eyes with desperate hope.

No matter how much he despised Norris, right now, the man was their only chance of escape.

Norris swiftly undid their restraints and tore the duct tape from their mouths.

Taking in their haggard, tortured state, his jaw clenched in fury.

"Damn it, who did this to you?"

"There’s no time for that!"

Margaret cut in, her voice trembling with terror.

She ignored his question, her face pale with panic.

"Get us out of here—now!

If the Luther Family finds us, we’re dead!"

Her fingers dug into Norris’s arm like claws, her entire body shaking violently.

"Hurry, hurry up."

Tyler’s breath was faint, too weak to even nod.

All he could do was meet Margaret’s gaze with his own, silently urging her on.

This place was like hell itself—he didn’t want to spend another minute here.

"Don’t be afraid," Norris murmured, gripping Margaret’s arm tightly, his eyes sharp and unyielding.

"Sinclair and Camilla are dead.

That old bastard from the Luther Family is barely clinging to life," he said, a cold, triumphant smirk twisting his lips.

"There are no more direct heirs left in the Luther Family.

San Francisco is ours now."

Margaret and Tyler stared at him in stunned silence, their faces frozen in disbelief.

"You... you’re serious?"

Margaret finally managed, her voice trembling.

"Of course," Norris replied smoothly, his expression dark as he laid out the truth for them.

Grandpa Porter—the same man who had always been on such good terms with the Luther Family patriarch—was actually the mastermind behind their downfall?!

Margaret and Tyler’s eyes widened in shock, their minds reeling.

They had only been imprisoned for a short while, and yet the world outside had already turned upside down?

After several tense seconds of silence.

"The rest of the Luther Family’s direct lineage are all dead," Margaret said to Norris, her voice laced with a mix of complexity and hesitation.

"And... what about Jonathan?"

At the mention of Jonathan, Norris’s expression darkened instantly.

"Even now, you’re still thinking about that good-for-nothing?"

"No, of course not," Margaret’s eyes flickered nervously as she hurriedly denied it.

"After what he did to me, I just want to know if he’s dead or not."

"Not yet, but he will be soon," Norris bit back the harsher words on the tip of his tongue, glancing at Tyler who stood nearby.

"Enough.

We’ll talk more once we’re out of here."

Supporting Margaret with one arm, he motioned for an assassin to carry Tyler on his back to follow as they headed for the exit. Little did they know.

Dozens of pitch-black gun barrels awaited them in the courtyard.