As Ava stepped into the room, she was stunned to see Charlotte standing there—alive.Her feet halted mid-step. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth opened slightly, but no words came. Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, it was as though the world had stopped spinning.She was frozen, speechless, struggling to make sense of what she was seeing. Charlotte. Alive. Not on a ventilator. Not in a hospital bed. Not a lifeless corpse as they had assumed—but standing tall, breathing, her eyes filled with fire.The room seemed to throb with tension, heavy and hot like a storm about to break.Before Ava could even react, Barbara stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. Her expression was hard, her voice sharper.“How could you?” she snapped, voice ringing across the room like a gunshot. “You knew Charlotte wasn’t dead. And yet you still took over Elysian Bloom. You spread news of her death like it meant nothing—like she meant nothing.”Ava blinked, stunned

Barbara’s eyes widened, and she stood up quickly. “Charlotte… this is wonderful!” she gasped, reading through the message. “This is it. This is your way back in! They’re still loyal to you.” She grabbed Charlotte’s hands and squeezed them with an urgency that made Charlotte’s pulse quicken. “Don’t waste a second. First thing tomorrow morning, send the money. Do whatever it takes. This could be the beginning of you reclaiming your throne at Elysian Bloom.” Charlotte nodded, barely able to contain the flurry of emotions rushing through her. Her heart pounded with a mixture of anxiety, disbelief, and desperate joy. After everything that had happened—being hospitalized, declared missing, practically erased from her own company—this message felt like a lifeline. Like proof that not everything had fallen apart. Just then, John appeared in the doorway, drawn by the sound of raised voices. “What’s going on?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern. Barbara turned to him with a

They stood beside the charred ruins of their once-beautiful home. The smoke of the burnt house clung to their clothes, seeped into their skin, and etched itself into memory. The fire trucks had long since disappeared, leaving behind nothing but silence and devastation. Charlotte’s eyes were red from crying, her shoulders sagging under the weight of disbelief and fatigue. John stood next to her, jaw clenched, fists stuffed into his pockets, silent with rage. Barbara trembled beside them, her expression contorted in pain. She stared at the ruins as though staring into a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. The scars were raw, visible not only in the debris before them but in the way their chests rose and fell with shallow breaths.Logan stood amid the wreckage. His face was unreadable, but his eyes bore the weight of responsibility. .He stepped forward, his voice low but firm, trying to ease the tension that pulsed like a third heartbeat between them. “We’re going to get th

"You want to know how I found out?” she asked, the words slicing through the hush. “Ava came to me. She came to me with tears in her eyes and fire in her voice. And she told me everything—every damn detail you all have been too cowardly to speak aloud."Ava's jaw quivered, but she held her tongue, uncertain whether speaking would worsen things.John stood protectively beside her, his arms folded and jaw set tight, his expression unreadable but simmering with tension. Barbara hovered a few steps behind, torn somewhere between shock and heartbreak. But Grandma Sullivan didn’t wait for anyone to brace themselves. She never had.“She said it started weeks ago,” the old woman continued. “Ava had been working day and night trying to stabilize Elysian Bloom. Ever since she stepped in as CEO, she’s been fighting an uphill battle—cleaning up after everyone’s messes. But this one—this disaster—this came from you, Charlotte.”Charlotte’s lips parted. A breath escaped. But no words followed.

Logan was a bit surprised when he saw the name on the screen: Felix—his father’s lifelong butler. Reluctantly, Logan answered, keeping his voice flat, devoid of warmth. “Felix?”There was a pause—tense, pregnant with unspoken emotion—before Felix’s strained voice finally broke through, heavy with urgency and grief.“Master Logan… your father… he’s not well. He’s on the verge of death. You need to come home.”Logan’s jaw clenched instantly. That word—home—tasted bitter, corrosive, like old wine turned to vinegar. He hadn’t called it that in years. Not since his mother had died and the world he once knew rotted into something unrecognizable. He hadn’t forgiven his father for standing idle while his mother withered away in silent agony, day after day, until the light left her eyes. He’d never forgotten that betrayal. And he’d certainly never let it go.“I don’t care,” Logan muttered, voice cold and clipped. “Whatever happens to him isn’t my business.”“Master Logan, please,” Feli