Silas stepped out of the bathroom, a black towel slung low around his hips, water droplets still tracing paths down his sculpted chest. His hair was damp, tousled from the shower.

The moment he entered the bedroom, his gaze landed on Sylvain, who was still lying on the bed exactly where he had left him — naked and trembling.

Silas’s lips curved into a faint, satisfied smirk. "Go to your room," he said, voice calm but leaving no room for argument. "I have work to do."

Sylvain didn’t hesitate. He pushed himself up on shaky legs, avoiding Silas’s eyes as he gathered his scattered clothes. His body ached with every movement — a constant reminder of what had just happened.

Without a word, he slipped out of the master bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Once he was gone, Silas dropped the towel and pulled on a pair of black silk pajama pants. He walked over to the large desk in the corner of the room, opened his laptop, and began going through encrypted files.

One particular file caught his attention.

A high-resolution photo of Santiago filled the screen — sharp features, intense eyes, and that calculated smile from their recent meeting. Across the image, a bold red stamp read: UNKNOWN.

Silas leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his still-damp hair in frustration. He stared at the screen for a long moment before picking up his phone and dialing his secretary.

The phone rang several times. When she finally answered, her voice was groggy and thick with sleep.

"Hello... Mr. Vane?" She cleared her throat quickly, adjusting herself. "Sorry, I was just... I’m awake now. How can I help you, sir?"

Silas didn’t waste time on pleasantries. "What do we have on that man? Any new files?"

There was a brief pause as she pulled up the records. "Nothing substantial, sir. No official records, no passport traces under that name, no financial footprint that we can link directly. His nationality is still unknown, but our analysts believe he could very well be of Asian descent — possibly mixed. We’re hitting walls everywhere. It’s like he was created out of thin air."

Silas’s jaw tightened. "Keep digging. I don’t care how deep you have to go. Find out who he really is."

"Yes, sir. I’ll have the team work through the night."

Silas leaned forward. "Has he sent any new messages?"

"He sent an email a few hours ago requesting a meeting tomorrow. Same terms as before."

"Use the regular restaurant," Silas instructed. "Confirm the time and send it to me."

"Understood."

Silas ended the call without another word. He had barely set the phone down when it rang again — an unknown number.

He answered, voice cool. "Yes?"

A bright, cheerful female voice came through the line. "Nerd! You still answer calls like a robot after all these years?"

Silas frowned. "Who is this?"

The woman laughed softly. "Wow, you really forgot? It’s Diane. We went to the same school. Don’t tell me the great Silas Voss has a bad memory now."

Silas leaned back, his expression unchanging. "Hmm. It’s really late here. We’ll talk tomorrow."

Without waiting for her response, he hung up the phone.

On the other side of the world, Diane stared at her phone, a playful smile spreading across her lips. She was sitting in a luxurious dressing room, already half-made up for a late-night photoshoot.

Her long hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her makeup artist had done an incredible job highlighting her striking features.

She chuckled softly. "He’s still as quirky as ever."

Her assistant adjusts her clothes. "You don’t have to worry, ma’am. We will be leaving in two weeks, so you can surprise him."

"Yeah, I know. I just wanted to hear his magnetic voice, it’s been a long time since we met." She giggles. "I hope he is not annoyed at me for leaving. Silas has always been an emotional person".

An older man in a black suit poked his head into the room. "Miss Diane, the shoot is about to start. We need you on set in five minutes."

Diane stood up gracefully, adjusting the strap of her elegant gown. "I’m coming."

She gave herself one last look in the mirror, smiled at her reflection, and walked out of the room with her assistant—fully dolled up.

Back in the penthouse, Silas set his phone down on the desk and stared once again at Santiago’s photo on the laptop screen.

"Unknown..." he muttered under his breath.

He closed the file, but the uneasy feeling remained. Something about Santiago didn’t sit right. His appearance was something to be suspicious of, a name without any identification meant trouble. Especially when he is digging into Sylvain’s family past.

And now this sudden call from Diane after so many years? His mom must be up to it.

Silas leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. The night had suddenly become far more complicated than he had planned.

Down the hall, in the guest room, Sylvain lay curled up under the covers, body still aching and mind racing with everything that had happened.

The searing pain still assaulting his body, made it difficult for him to sleep. In tears, he managed to walk into the bathroom.

He picked up the sponge here and scrubbed his body furiously. Tonight felt more like a dream, a nightmare at that.

He never expected Silas to go this far, turning on the shower letting it wash away Silas’s trail on his body.

"Mom, Dad, where are you.....I can’t take this any longer". The cold water did nothing to ease his aching heart. "I need you here....I can’t hold on any longer. Perhaps it’s best to meet you up above." He touches the pendant on his neck.

All he ever wanted was to live a happy life with his family. He once had that dream until his parents were claimed dead.

No substantial evidence to prove it, just speculation made by those money mongers.

Turning off the shower he limped out of the bathroom, drove under the duvet. He was drained from the ’exercise’ Silas put him through.

His eyes were heavy, struggling to stay open. Staring at the ceiling, he made a mental note to ask Silas about his brother’s freedom. He couldn’t keep living like this.