Xander stood outside the guest house with the two guards, but as the seconds passed and the air seemed to grow colder, even they struggled to maintain their composure.

Boss is scary, they both thought, exchanging a quick glance.

Xander’s expression remained blank, but his mind was anything but calm. His thoughts circled relentlessly around one question—why did Ivy want to be alone with Sal?

Even though she had clearly stated that Sal was just a friend, the image of them hugging refused to leave his mind.

After standing there for a while, Xander finally pulled out his phone and dialed Taylor, walking away as the call connected.

***

[Gavin’s Place]

Clara stormed into the room, tossing her limited-edition handbag aside before dropping onto the couch in front of her husband, still seething with anger.

Her eyes had darkened, her jaw clenched tight as the memory of her humiliation replayed in her mind. Usually, she would have brushed such things off—but this time was different. This time, she had been looked down upon... in front of an outsider.

"That woman seems to have charmed everyone, Gavin."

The moment the words left her mouth, Gavin’s fingers stilled on his laptop keyboard. He slowly lifted his gaze, meeting her furious eyes—only to smirk.

"So?" he replied casually.

Clara stared at him in disbelief, her frown deepening.

"So? We need to do something, Gavin," she snapped. "You can’t just sit back and let Xander have everything while we remain at his mercy."

But Gavin remained unfazed, his calm demeanor only fueling her anger further.

Gavin watched his wife for a few second before joining her. "I know which is why now we have to play carefully"

His words made Clara frown.

Gavin had always believed his wife was intelligent, but this time, her impulsiveness only made her seem foolish in his eyes.

"Now tell me exactly what happened," he said.

Clara took a breath, forcing herself to calm down before recounting everything that had taken place at the Old Emerson Residence.

As she spoke, Gavin listened in silence, his expression unreadable, while Clara’s frustration continued to simmer beneath the surface.

When she finally finished, he fell into thought for a moment.

"She has a sharp tongue, Gavin," Clara added bitterly. "And the way she apologized for everything... it only proves she isn’t as easy to deal with as we assumed."

Gavin looked at his wife and smiled, the sudden gentleness on his face leaving Clara momentarily confused.

"Don’t worry," he said softly, caressing her hair. "I’ll handle everything."

His calm tone slowly soothed her rising anger.

"Why don’t you go freshen up while I make a quick call?" he added.

Clara hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded. Somehow, his sweet voice always had a way of calming her down. Without another word, she headed toward the restroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, the warmth in Gavin’s eyes disappeared completely.

His expression turned cold.

With practiced ease, he pulled out his phone and made a call.

The moment the line connected, ragged breathing echoed from the other end.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop bothering me?" the man on the other end groaned in irritation.

But Gavin remained perfectly calm.

"Because if you don’t," he said smoothly, "be prepared to lose the woman you’ve always desired."

The words instantly made the man fall silent.

But before he could respond, Gavin ended the call.

Standing on the balcony, he stared out at the city lights below, a faint smirk slowly forming on his lips before he finally returned to the room.

***

Back at the Emerson Mansion, Ivy returned with a conflicted expression after meeting Sal.

The moment she stepped into her room, she locked the door behind her and walked straight to the bed.

For a long while, she sat there silently, her gaze repeatedly drifting toward the box Sal had given her.

"Master wanted me to give this to you."

Sal’s words echoed endlessly in her mind, along with the shocking truth he had revealed about her master’s death.

Hardley Morris’s death was still shrouded in mystery.

According to Sal, when he went to meet Hardley that day, the older man had handed him the box and ordered him to flee immediately.

That had been the last conversation they ever shared before news of Hardley’s death reached him.

The realization disturbed her deeply.

Until now, Ivy had believed someone from the organization had simply leaked their location to Xander’s men.

But now...

Now she was certain.

Someone had betrayed them from within.

Ivy remained silent, closing her eyes as she tried to steady her racing thoughts. Her emotions were in complete chaos, but she forced herself to calm down.

Then slowly, she reached for the box resting before her.

After Sal, the only person she had ever truly trusted was the man who had taken her in and given her shelter—Hardley Morris.

To him, she had been more than just an operative.

He had treated her like a daughter.

Someone precious.

And when she confessed that she wanted to leave the organization and live freely, he had agreed without hesitation.

His only request had been for her to complete one final mission before walking away forever.

Ivy’s hands trembled slightly as she finally opened the box—but the moment she saw what was inside, she froze.

Confusion flickered across her face as she slowly reached for the half-burned photograph.

Most of the image was still visible. A man stood in the center, holding the hands of two little girls. But there had once been another person in the picture—someone whose face had been completely destroyed by the flames.

Ivy studied the photograph carefully, unable to understand why Hardley would leave something like this for her.

Then her eyes caught sight of a letter resting beneath it, along with a few other items.

Setting the photograph aside, she unfolded the letter and began to read.

Dear Raven,

I know that by the time you read this letter, I will already be gone. But there is something you deserve to know.

The day I brought you home, you were just a fragile little girl who nearly ended up beneath my car. You were lucky nothing happened to you.

For a man who had lost his family far too early in life, finding you gave me a reason to keep going. Somehow, before I even realized it, you became my daughter.

You were too young to remember where you came from, but after I took you in, there were nights when you would cry in your sleep, calling out names I had never heard before.

Those nightmares were so severe they would leave you breathless. Yet whenever I asked you about them afterward, you would only stare at me blankly, as though my words made no sense to you.

I may not be related to you by blood, but you were always the person who pulled me out of the darkness when life became unbearable.

I know I was hard on you during your training, but all I ever wanted was for you to become strong enough to protect yourself when danger came.

Still, that never stopped me from searching for the people who continued to haunt your dreams.

And this... is what I found.

I don’t know whether it will help you or not, but consider it my final gift to you.

And after I’m gone... I hope you’ll still remember me.

By the time Ivy finished reading, her eyes were burning with unshed tears.

Raven still remembered fragments of that day—the screeching tires, the panic, the feeling of running from something terrifying before collapsing in front of Hardley’s car.

But everything after that had become a blur.

As she grew older, those memories faded into meaningless fragments she could never piece together.

Never once had she imagined that Hardley would secretly spend years searching for clues about her past.

"Who is this man...?" she whispered softly, picking up the photograph again. "And why am I there with him?"

Her gaze settled on one of the little girls in the picture, and an uneasy feeling crept into her chest.

Something about the image felt painfully familiar.

Too familiar.

And despite the years that had passed and despite remembering almost nothing, a strange sense of caution suddenly flooded her mind, as though some buried instinct were warning her not to dig any deeper.

Ivy was still lost in her thoughts when her phone suddenly rang.

The sharp sound snapped her out of her daze.

She blinked when she saw Taylor’s name flashing across the screen.

Back when Xander had returned her phone, he had already added a few important contacts into it—and Taylor’s number was one of them.

Taking a slow breath to steady herself, Ivy grabbed the phone and answered the call.

"Wuaahhh—!"

Ivy nearly dropped the phone away from her ear, utterly baffled.

Because no matter how hard she tried, she simply could not believe that a grown man like Taylor was actually crying on the phone.