Anna didn’t stop. She didn’t look back. She didn’t wait for permission. Her steps were firm as she strode down the hallway, disappearing behind the corner.Her bold departure, in her own house, made Pastor Mendes’ face flush with anger. And of course, all that fury was directed at Tyson, who, in his mind, was the source of his daughter’s sudden defiance.“How dare she…!” he roared, slamming his hand on the table.He threw his still-burning cigarette onto the marble floor, the ember bouncing before dying out.“And you! How dare you give orders in my house!” he shouted, rising to his feet. His voice echoed through the spacious living room. “Who do you think you are to tell my daughter what to do?! This is my house! My rules!”Tyson didn’t move. He didn’t flinch, let alone show a shred of guilt. His expression remained as calm and flat as ever, which only fueled Pastor Mendes’ desire to tear him apart.Instead, Tyson walked unhurriedly toward the sofa opposite Pastor Mendes and sat down.

On the way home, Tyson drove with his usual neutral expression, yet the thoughts behind his eyes were calm, too calm for someone who had just threatened a powerful family without even raising his voice.Beside him, Anna remained silent, occupied with suppressing the whirlwind of feelings inside her. She didn’t realize that Tyson occasionally glanced her way, observing how she clutched her bag as if it were the only thing she had left.Tyson intertwined his fingers on the steering wheel.All this time, the system had allowed him to conceal his and Anna’s presence completely. No signal, no location trace, nothing that could be tracked. That was why the De Leon family had struggled to find him.However, he chose to disable it specifically for Anna during the last few days. Of course, that decision had a purpose.And today, that purpose was fulfilled.Once the system’s protection around Anna was gone, the Mendes family was able to trace her. They came for her. They took Anna home.He knew

Red and purple neon lights drifted lazily through the haze of cigarette smoke, reflecting off the expensive crystal chandeliers overhead. The bass from the music vibrated like the heartbeat of the night, making the dance floor pulse in time with its rhythm.In the corner of the VIP room, curtains of velvet drawn shut, guarded by two broad-shouldered security men, a man sat with his legs propped up along the edge of a leather sofa.Leonardo Frederick.He lounged back casually, one hand holding a half-filled glass of whiskey while young women beside him let out soft laughter, clinging to his arms like accessories. His smile was thin, arrogant, dripping with satisfaction.A few days earlier, his uncle, Gio Frederick, had ordered him to break off the engagement with the Mendes family, especially with Anna. Leonardo had simply nodded at the time, indifferent. He had never cared much for Anni, let alone Anna, whom he hadn’t even met in person. The engagement was more of a family transaction

The interrogation room lights cast a cold reflection over the iron table, dripping like time intentionally slowed. Tyson sat at ease with his arms folded, as if this room were merely a hotel lobby he once owned, not an interrogation chamber with cameras watching him from every angle.The investigator across from him tapped his pen repeatedly, trying to create psychological pressure, but Tyson didn’t flinch.“Don’t play games. You’re involved in the embezzlement case—”Tyson tilted his head slightly, a half-smile tugging at his lips.“Which hasn’t been proven,” he cut in without raising his voice.“So allow me to ask instead… do you have evidence? Or are you detaining me based solely on office rumors and speculation?”The investigator’s pen struck the table harder. Silence. Even the camera seemed to hum like it was holding its breath.Tyson leaned forward, his dark eyes sharp, slicing into the investigator’s.“Funny. You rushed to detain me, yet I don’t see a single valid document laid

Valenbourg greeted him with cold, clean air, the kind of cold that didn’t sting, but gently turned breath into thin white mist.The airport lights in the small city were dimmer, quieter than the chaos of his homeland. No cameras turning to search for him, no suspicious whispers from security.Here, Tyson was not a fugitive, not a traitor, not the De Leon heir. He was simply a man with a black suitcase and steady footsteps.The automatic glass doors slid open, and for a moment Tyson paused. Among the clusters of people greeting their families, a woman stood tall holding a small sign with only one name, no surname.TYSON.Her eyes widened slightly when he appeared from the crowd, as if she still couldn’t believe he truly came. Her smile grew slowly, careful, but warm like a single lamp lit in the dark.“I’m glad to see you again,” she said, voice calm, yet unable to hide the tremor of relief beneath it.Tyson walked closer and set his suitcase down. He didn’t embrace her, didn’t touch h