"You really wanna know?" Ivy asked, her fingers tracing lazy circles across Derrick's bare chest. Derrick smirked, sliding on hand to her waist. "Of course I wanna know." She giggled again, softer this time. Then she leaned closer, her lips almost brushing his. "They said," she whispered in a slow and sultry voice, "that you're drop dead gorgeous." Derrick raised a brow. "Hmm. Is that so?" Her lips hovered right over his as she continued. "And they were right. You are–" She deliberately paused. Then she kissed him. "–drop." Another kiss, slower this time. "–dead." And one more, lingering a little longer than the last. "–handsome." They both burst into laughter, and Derrick pulled her onto his lap. Her arms slid around his neck, and their laughter melted into another kiss.The morning was quite warm and lovely, the curtains swaying lightly with the breeze. For a moment, the world felt perfectly still. They continued to get more intimate, and just when Ivy was to pull off

The mall security men swiftly turned and pushed through the crowd of customers around, scanning left and right. But Moses couldn't be seen. He had been completely swallowed by the sea of shoppers. One of the guards adjusted his cap as they returned to Derrick. "He's possibly blended in. Searching for him would only escalate things. I'm afraid the police would need to take it from here." Ivy lowered her phone. "Yes they will. The call had already gone through." Within minutes, two patrol officers pulled up outside the mall entrance. Their presence free curious stares from passersby. Derrick, Ivy, and her sisters all paid for their items and quickly stepped out of the mall to meet the police officers. The security personnel followed closely behind. "Alright," the senior officer said as he stepped forward. "Good afternoon you all. Who's our lady in distress?" "I am," Ivy said as she stepped forward. "Moses Lorenzo–my cousin. He's wanted by the police. He'd escaped from the hospita

Derrick didn't answer immediately. The question hung lightly in the air. It was wrapped in the normalcy of couples planning an evening out. Dora leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, watching Ivy with some faintly mischievous smile. Ivy was facing Derrick now. Her fingers had slid into his palm as though the decision would always been his to make. There was something about how her eyes softened as she looked at him. The corners of her lips lifted slowly. "Why not?" he said at last, his tone easy. "It's been a while I saw the movies anyway." Frederick released a breath that sounded like relief, and Dora clapped her hands once in pure delight. "Good! Then it's settled," she announced brightly. "We'll catch the seven-thirty show at the Silverbird Cinema." Conversation flowed again. Dora leaned forward as she launched into some form of animated gossip about a disastrous charity gala seating arrangement. Ivy laughed freely, her head tilting back.Chapter 086: A Glitch in Dar

Moses stepped out of Vivian’s apartment just before noon, locking the door behind him with a distracted air. The morning sun reflected faintly against the neighboring windows. The street below was calm—ordinary traffic, distant horns, life continuing without urgency. He ran a hand over his jaw. A shave would help. He needed to look decent. He had barely taken ten steps down the pavement when his phone vibrated. An unknown number. He frowned slightly but answered. "Who's there?” A voice came through—distorted, calm, mechanical. “Manhattan offshore point. Twelve a.m. on the dot. A car will pick you up.” Moses stilled, and the voice did not repeat itself. The line went dead. He lowered the phone slowly, staring at the blank screen. Manhattan offshore point. By midnight. He slid the phone into his pocket and resumed walking. He didn’t need to guess to know that it was Vincent. Of course it was Vincent. The timing, the tone, the precision—it reeked of him. Mo

The black sedan rolled out of the garage of the Lorenzo headquarters and merged into the late afternoon current of the city's traffic.Horns blared. Yellow taxis cut across lanes with practiced arrogance. Pedestrians flooded intersections like restless tides.Inside the car, it was quiet as Derrick drove.Pa Lorenzo sat in the back seat, his walking stick resting diagonally across his lap.For the first few minutes, neither of them spoke.Then the old man’s breathing evened out, and his chin dipped slightly toward his chest.He had fallen asleep.Derrick glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his expression softening for a fraction of a second.Without looking away from the road for long, he tapped the console and scrolled through the playlist until he found an old blues track he believed Pa Lorenzo would love. The low, gravelly voice filled the car, smooth and unhurried.It steadied the atmosphere.Derrick’s fingers tightened subtly around the steering wheel as his thoughts drif