Lombard slid back into his seat like nothing happened. Earlier, he’d excused himself to “use the restroom.” No conversation needed with Finn—everything he wanted to say was already typed out and handed over.Honestly, he didn’t suddenly care about high school kids. This was just… convenience.Finn read through the message slowly. Then frowned. He looked up at Lombard, confused.“No one would go this far,” he said. “All I have to do is explain my ideas. He’ll pass me based on merit.”Abigail took the phone from him and skimmed through the text. Her brows knit together. She looked at Lombard again.Wait—what? Did he actually expect Finn to know this? Even she wouldn’t have considered something this detailed.“It’s already too late anyway,” Finn added, handing the phone back.Lombard didn’t react. Like he hadn’t heard a word.Abigail sighed softly. “Just go on and read it, dear,” she said gently. “Try as much as you can.”Finn reluctantly reread the message for the rest of the time he ha

Everywhere was quieter than it had any right to be. The Belmonts were known for not saying things they didn’t mean. It was as if some invisible gravitational force guided their words. Five years ago, they had predicted that a building would collapse—a massive supermarket at the time. Architects inspected it, found nothing wrong. But on the exact date and hour the Belmonts had warned, it had crumbled. No lives were lost, thanks to their warning. A mysterious, eerie accuracy that made people uneasy.So now, as Cassian ranted about some impending “divine accident,” everyone around felt that same unsettling chill.The principal of Finn’s school had been summoned. He hurried over, torn between excitement for his student and dread for the man Cassian had threatened.The door to the important man's car finally opened. He stepped out.“Do we have a problem, young man? Even if you begged my daughter on your knees, you wouldn’t touch the heel of her shoe,” the man said, irritation sharp in his

Abigail had only meant to steady herself when she grabbed Lombard, but now she was closer to him than she realized. From a distance, it might have looked like they were holding hands.And maybe… they were.She hadn’t felt jealousy in years. She wasn’t even sure she was capable of it anymore. Yet somehow, her fingers tightened slightly around his.Did he notice? She had no idea.But she felt the tension in his palm. The faint rigidity in his fingers. Anger. Controlled, but present.When you’ve been around enough men, you learn to read the subtle signs. The quiet storms.“I’m Abigail,” she said smoothly, stepping half an inch forward — not enough to be obvious, but enough to place herself between them. “We’ve met before, right? Only once?”She rarely introduced herself first. She didn’t have to.But whatever history stood between Lombard and this woman… she didn’t intend to let it breathe.A flicker of recognition crossed Mireya’s face.“My name is Mireya,” she said warmly.She had appr

Inside the car, Abigail sat quietly, her thoughts spiraling.Less than ten hours.She couldn’t process it.How could someone just say that? With certainty?“Um… sorry, I forgot your name,” she said suddenly. “Whenever I get anxious, I forget things.”“Lombard Drake August,” he replied calmly. “I gave you all three names. Try to remember at least one next time.”Despite everything, a faint breath of laughter escaped her.He was driving toward her house. Toward her father.She had been shivering ever since Mireya’s words.“Lombard… Mireya couldn’t have been lying, right? Maybe she just wanted to scare me?”“We’re going to check on him,” he said simply.“But I don’t… I just… I don’t want to see him yet. I mean, he’s my father but—” She stopped, frustrated, running her hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. We’re practically strangers and I’m unloading all this on you.”Silence.Then—“You want me to help you?”“Really?” Abigail asked, excitement lighting her face. Then it died almost immedia

Mireya’s mother gasped.“This is Rowan,” Mireya’s baby’s father corrected quickly, trying to regain control of the situation.Silence.“Yeah, I know,” the voice replied casually.Another gasp escaped Mireya’s mother. She despised profanity. It was one of the few things she had never tolerated. But the tone suggested familiarity. This wasn’t new.Rowan continued making small signs of the cross over himself as he spoke, trying to steady his voice.“I need your help. The address has already been sent to you.”A pause.“So when are you coming back?” the voice asked lazily. “Haven’t seen your ass in ages.”Rowan had to pull the phone slightly away from his ear and face the family, who were now visibly doubting him.“He’s just like this,” Rowan said firmly. “I’ve worked with him for more than ten years. When my father was captured two years ago, he and his men got him back unharmed. Less than ten min