The landlord burst into loud, choking laughter the moment he recognized the face standing in front of him. His potbelly shook violently with every laugh, and he slapped his palm against the metal gate as if Rico’s very presence were the most hilarious sight he had seen in years. He leaned back slightly, gasping between bursts, the tears at the corners of his eyes sparkling in the morning sun. “Ahn-ahn! So it’s you, Rico?” he wheezed, barely able to speak. “Wait—how did you get the West family car? And security? My guy, are you their driver now? You don’t even… look the part!” The neighbors around him snickered, curiosity lacing their laughter. Some edged closer, peering around corners, eager to witness the spectacle, as though Rico’s return were some circus act. The landlord folded his arms, puffed out his chest, and spun to the young man he had been chasing away. “You see this one?” he said, pointing at Rico with theatrical amusement. “He once lived here! He begged me—pleaded—to

Diana stepped out of Dr. Harry’s office, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips. Finally… I might actually get the money for his treatment, she thought, her chest tightening with a mixture of relief and lingering fear. For the first time in weeks, a fragile sense of control crept back into her life—a flicker of hope she hadn’t dared to imagine. Her son’s hospital bills had been mounting like an insurmountable mountain, and every sleepless night, every extra shift at the hospital, had still left her unable to meet the demands. The doctor had been blunt: “We will have to stop treatment if you cannot pay some more.” His words had hung over her like a dark cloud, an ever-present threat to her son’s fragile health. She had thrown herself into extra shifts, sacrificing sleep and personal time, but it had never been enough. And now… now something had finally shifted. She had been given leverage, a tangible piece of influence she could use—not only to sway decisions at work

Cassendra stormed out of the Great Patriarch’s office like a woman holding back a scream. Her heels struck the marble floor too sharply, her shoulders tight, her face stiff with rage she didn’t bother to hide. Whatever conversation she’d had with her father clearly hadn’t gone well. Sonia was making her way down the corridor at that exact moment. She caught sight of her aunt’s expression and slowed. Cassendra rarely looked calm, but today she seemed… explosive. “Aunt Cassendra, good afternoon,” Sonia greeted politely. Cassendra didn’t blink or even flick her gaze in Sonia’s direction. She brushed past her as though Sonia wasn’t even air. Sonia’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay…” she murmured under her breath. She didn’t take it personally—she never did. She had grown up in this house. She had seen every mood, every outburst, every whispered argument behind expensive doors. Her aunt, Lady Cassendra had always been dramatic, always running hot, always reacting as if the world existed to of

The chaos outside the house had reached a fever pitch. Guards barked orders, neighbors shouted, and belongings were dragged through the dirt as the compound emptied. Yet inside, the room felt impossibly small—charged with a quiet tension that had nothing to do with the outside world. She stared at Rico, hesitant, unsure where to even begin. “What have you come for, Rico?” she finally asked, her voice trembling slightly. She forced herself to meet his gaze, though her pulse was hammering like a drum. He sighed deeply, a sound heavy with years of burden. “Over time,” he said quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself, “during my stay here… you always said things about me. Things that made me feel like I was… different. Unique.” He shook his head, almost in disbelief at his own words. “I’ve spent years wondering what you meant.” Her heart skipped. “Different? Rico… I don’t understand.” He let out another slow breath, almost tired, almost broken. “I want to know what you know.

Sonia didn’t wait to hear her father’s answer about Eliron. The pressure in her chest had already become unbearable. The moment her mother shifted the conversation away from her—away from the truth she had begged for—something inside Sonia sank like a stone thrown into deep, dark water. It wasn’t just disappointment anymore; it was a hollow ache, a familiar churn of frustration and isolation that had shadowed her entire life. “Dad… you’re back,” she murmured, forcing a smile that tasted bitter on her tongue. Her lips trembled slightly, and she bit the inside of her cheek to steady them. “Um… I should head to my room now.” She felt Helena’s eyes on her, piercing, deliberate. And Damian’s scrutiny pressed down on her like a weight she couldn’t shake. Every step she took toward the hallway was careful, yet it felt like walking on shards of glass. Her heart felt like it might break under the pressure of all the unanswered questions she carried. Damian’s head snapped toward her, sharp,