He had watched Lin Cohen grow up since he was just a child. If he were to send Lin Cohen away now, it would be like cutting away half of his own life.
Lyn Andong couldn't calm himself. He sat frozen in his chair, his fingers unconsciously clenching the armrests. Words refused to form on his tongue.
"Why are you hesitating?" Elder Jo's voice suddenly rang out, sharp and stern. "Is Lin Cohen more important to you than Lino? Is that it?"
Seeing Lyn Andong's silence and the flicker of emotion in his eyes, Elder Jo's temper snapped. Rage colored his voice as he leaned forward, barking, "Answer me!"
Startled, Lyn Andong quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Dad, please don't misunderstand. It's not what you think."
He took a deep breath, then spoke slowly, cautiously, as if choosing every word with care.
"Lino is my son by blood. That's undeniable. But Lin Cohen... Lin Cohen was raised by us. By our hands. He's not just a boy I watched grow—he was molded by my care, our effort, our love. There are emotions bound to him, deep ones."
He paused, troubled, then added, "Even if I were to agree to send Little Coen away, what about Feng? She wouldn't be able to accept it. She's already fragile. It would crush her."
Caught between family ties and pragmatic calculations, Lyn Andong was desperate. He glanced helplessly at Elder Jo and then shifted his tone, reaching for sympathy. "Phoenix understands what's happening. I know she'd agree with me."
But Elder Jo wasn't swayed. His voice remained cold, heavy with command. "No. Lin Cohen must go. Lino must be brought back. That's final."
Lyn Andong bit his lower lip, cold sweat collecting at his temples. Just minutes ago, he had assumed this family gathering was nothing more than an unusual dinner—perhaps a discussion about family business. He hadn't expected the old man to lay down the gauntlet so decisively. He should have known better.
Sending Lin Cohen away now? Impossible. He had invested too much—emotionally, strategically. Everything had been set up behind closed doors. Lin Cohen was already being groomed. No sudden decision, not even one from Elder Jo, could change that.
As his thoughts raced, Lyn Andong's heart hardened. Lin Cohen must be protected, no matter the cost. As for Lino? Let him do as he pleases. Even if the world discovered the truth—that Lino was his real son—so what?
He had already bet on the future, and Lin Cohen was the cornerstone of that future.
Summoning his resolve, Lyn Andong raised his head. "Dad, we can't send Little Coen away. If we do, we'll regret it. You don't know what kind of person Lin Mo really is. He didn't come back to reunite with us—he came back for money, for status. His behavior is... questionable. His hands and feet are not clean."
Lyn Andong's voice sharpened with emotion, half-pleading, half-justifying. "He refuses to acknowledge his faults, and he threatens us with severing ties to force our hand. Is that how a son behaves? Is that what we should welcome back into the family?"
Suddenly, Elder Jo stood with a loud thud, slamming his palm onto the table. The sound echoed through the room like a thunderclap.
Lyn Andong's heart skipped a beat. In all these years, he had never seen Elder Jo so furious. The old man's eyes narrowed into sharp slits, the fury behind them burning cold.
"You keep pointing fingers at Lin Mo," Elder Jo growled. "But tell me—have you done everything right? Do you have proof he's done wrong? Proof that his hands are dirty? That he refuses to change? You're quick to accuse, but your words are empty."
His tone darkened. "He's the rightful young master of the Lyn family. Lin Cohen is just an adopted son. You've already found your biological son—yet you're pushing him out like a stray dog? Do you want the entire city to laugh at us?"
Lyn Andong opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came. He knew he couldn't win against his father, not now. He wasn't ready. Even with the success of the new pharmaceutical project, the influence he needed to stand toe-to-toe with Elder Jo wasn't there yet.
He cast a glance at his wife, Jo Feng. Her silence was telling. And long years of marriage had taught him that once Elder Jo made up his mind, pressing further would only backfire.
After weighing his options carefully, Lyn Andong finally bowed his head and forced out a respectful answer. "You're right, Dad. I was too short-sighted. I'll handle Lin Cohen's matter carefully. I'll make sure no one laughs at us."
It was a strategic retreat. Nothing more. He had no intention of surrendering.
Elder Jo's expression eased slightly at the sound of compliance. But as he studied Andong's face, his own remained guarded. He had been fooled once—by that wolf in sheep's clothing. He wouldn't allow it to happen again.
"Good," Elder Jo said flatly. "There's one more thing. The matter of the shares."
Lyn Andong stiffened.
Elder Jo continued without pause, "Right now, you and Feng each hold 50% of the shares. If Lino is to return to the family, you will temporarily hand over a portion of your shares to him."
For a moment, Lyn Andong forgot how to breathe.
Shares?
Why should Lino's return require him to surrender shares? Even giving up a single percent would be catastrophic. The balance of power would be upset. If he and Feng ever found themselves at odds, and Lino sided with her, it would leave him utterly isolated. Vulnerable.
No, this wasn't just about family—it was a political trap.
Though alarm surged through him, he kept his expression carefully neutral.
"Dad," he said cautiously, "the company is at a critical phase. The new drug is nearing development, but it hasn't reached the promotion stage. If there's unrest in shareholding, it could hurt the stock value. Let's not make rash decisions..."
But Elder Jo's face had already gone cold again.
Lyn Andong swallowed hard. He had a fight on his hands—and this time, it might be blood for blood.