Chapter 1

"Janelle, you're shameless, and I, James Moore, refuse to call you my daughter!"

"Dad, what are you talking about?" Janelle Moore asked.

"You know damn well what I mean." James snorted. "The Fletchers just called off the wedding! Adrian swore he never touched you, so that child can't be his. It's a bastard!"

A sharp crack echoed as he struck Janelle's face. She pressed a protective hand over her bump, tears welling up as she gaped at him in disbelief.

"No way. This is Adrian's child. We were together at Casselwyn Hotel seven months ago, the night before he traveled overseas on a business trip for Moore Group. That's the night I conceived!"

"That's not true. Uncle James, Janelle's lying." Catherine Moore, Janelle's cousin, stood beside him, her voice quiet. "Adrian was with me that whole night seven months ago. We went home together. There's no way he was at that hotel."

The ground seemed to vanish under Janelle. Her head swam, vision blurring as if she'd taken a physical blow. She gripped the couch behind her for support, her legs threatening to give out.

If Adrian Fletcher wasn't with her that night, then who was?

James' expression went thunderous when she heard Catherine's words. He jabbed a finger at Janelle, his voice dripping with venom. "Get out now! And don't you dare come back. This is how you repay the Moores after everything we have done for you? You're no daughter of mine. Stay gone!"

Long after he had stormed away, Janelle remained frozen in place, too stunned to move.

Seven months ago, Adrian was the one who'd invited her to that hotel. It had been her first time sleeping with someone. The room stayed dark, but…

How was that possible? When did things start to go wrong?

Catherine crossed the space between them in quick strides, her usually sweet face now twisted in a disturbing smirk.

She leaned in close, her breath warm against Janelle's ear as she murmured, "I might as well tell you now, Janelle. That guy at the hotel? He was a hideous creep, handpicked just for you by me and Adrian."

Janelle's head snapped up, her face turning ghostly white. "How dare you… I've been standing up for you since we were kids, Catherine. What did I do to deserve this?"

Catherine's smile grew as she watched Janelle's stunned reaction. "Adrian and I are in love, but you were always in the way. Uncle James kept picking you over me, so what choice did I have? I had to get rid of you.

"Oh, and one more thing. I'm your father's daughter, too."

The words hit Janelle like a punch to the gut.

Catherine was James' illegitimate child? And her own fiancé had been working with Catherine to betray her?

Janelle stood frozen, her heart aching, like a knife had just twisted inside it. But the worst was yet to come.

A sudden phone call cut through the air, yanking her back to the moment. "Are you Ms. Quinn Beck's daughter?"

The voice was detached, and a sick dread twisted in Janelle's gut.

"Yes… I am," she said.

"Ms. Beck was in an accident on Blyvine Street. She didn't survive. We found your number in her phone…"

A numb buzzing filled Janelle's ears, her thoughts scattering like smoke. The voice kept talking, but the words were just noise now.

Quinn had died in a car crash.

Janelle stood frozen for a long moment before the shock crumbled into raw grief. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she choked out a question about where it happened.

Then, she ran outside, her pregnant frame moving as fast as it could. She didn't notice how Catherine's face twisted or the venom flashing in her eyes.

Outside, the rainy season had turned the world into a blur. The downpour was so heavy that Janelle could barely see past her own feet.

A car horn blared out of nowhere at the traffic light. Headlights flashed in her eyes, and then a car hit her, knocking her off her feet and slamming her into the mud.

…

Five years flew by in the blink of an eye.

A young voice rang out inside a private hospital's office building, "I'm so hungry, Mommy! If you starve me, you'll lose the cutest little treasure in the world—me!"

Tiffany fake-sobbed dramatically.

A gorgeous woman set her book down at the desk and sighed in fond exasperation. "You had a big breakfast before we left. How are you already hungry before noon?"

The woman speaking was Janelle, who had disappeared without a trace after the car accident five years ago.

Tiffany nodded eagerly at Janelle's words, her big, watery eyes full of longing.

"Mommy, I want fried chicken, chicken skewers, pizza, barbecue, juice…" she blurted out in one breath as if reciting a well-practiced list.

Janelle sighed and rubbed her forehead, wondering how she'd ended up with such a little foodie.

They were still locked in their little standoff when Hannah Quayle's voice floated in from the doorway, "Juice delivery!"

Hannah and Janelle had known each other forever. They'd been college roommates and shared everything. Hannah had also been a great help when Janelle "died" five years ago.

Tiffany's face lit up the second she recognized the voice outside the door. Without a second thought, she left Janelle behind and hurried over.

"Hannah! You're finally here. I've missed you so much!" Tiffany exclaimed.

Hannah clicked her tongue. "Sure you did. You just missed the juice I brought."

She handed the juice to Tiffany, her eyes lingering on the striking faces of Tiffany and Janelle.

She gushed, as she often did. "Every time I see your kids, I start thinking maybe I want some, too. Luckily, I'm good at resisting temptation. Seriously, how gorgeous are they?

"Those big eyes and that perfect little nose… No way your awful stepsister was telling the truth. If that guy was really some hideous monster, how did you end up with two little angels like them?"

Janelle's face tensed for a split second before she frowned at Hannah. Hannah immediately realized this wasn't the best topic to bring up in front of Tiffany and quickly mimed zipping her lips.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

The past resurfaced, bringing Janelle's memories flooding back.

She'd been in a car accident back then, but luckily, she only had minor injuries. Despite her aching stomach, she made her way to Blyvine Street—the address the caller had given her—to find Quinn.

Everything was chaotic when Janelle arrived at the accident scene. Quinn's body was nowhere in sight.

She searched for what felt like forever until exhaustion finally took over, sending her into premature labor. She thought her streak of bad luck was over, but right after giving birth, she was abducted.

Janelle had three children. The baby boy didn't make it, and the two girls were hurt. She was forced to relocate abroad with her girls, Tiffanny and Bella, so they could recover.

Bella's underlying illness left her frail even after five years, so Janelle only brought Tiffany back to their home country.

Janelle had endured years of hardship, but now, she was done. Revenge would be hers, and she'd find her children's father to cure Bella.

"Hannah, I want glazed donuts!" Tiffany said, her voice soft but pleading.

Hannah couldn't resist giving Tiffany's cheek an affectionate pinch before turning to Janelle. "Go ahead with your work. I'll take her to get some donuts."

Janelle blinked, snapping out of her thoughts, and nodded. "Okay, but be careful. The Fletchers are searching the city for us. Don't let them spot you."

"Don't worry. I'll stay sharp," Hannah said with a smile.

Once they left, a quiet ding sounded from Janelle's computer.

A new message had arrived.

Chapter 2

Janelle opened the message. The front desk had informed her that Adrian and Catherine had asked to see the miracle doctor, Taylor Presley, and even handwritten an invitation.

Janelle had barely brought them up, and now here they were, trying to get help from her other identity.

The groveling flattery in the invitation drained the warmth from her eyes. Her lips curled into a faint smirk as she sneered.

How convenient.

Adrian and Catherine had handed her the opportunity. She'd be rude not to take full advantage.

…

It was almost noon when two familiar visitors arrived at the hospital—Catherine and Adrian. The same pair who, five years ago, had worked tirelessly to kill Janelle.

"Send them in," Janelle said.

She hung up the front desk call and stepped behind the folding screen.

Sunlight streamed in just right, casting a soft glow around her slender frame through the screen. Her long hair spilled loosely over her shoulders, and even in silhouette, it was obvious that whoever stood there was breathtaking.

The moment Adrian stepped inside, the sight before him stole his breath.

He'd known Taylor's assistant was a woman, but her silhouette was unreal, like something from a dream. And just like that, Adrian was hooked.

Even Catherine faltered for a second, her focus wavering. But the moment she caught Adrian still staring, her face hardened.

"Adrian, focus," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Snapping out of it, Adrian let out a dry laugh. "Right, right. We're here to convince the miracle doctor to save Uncle Benedict's son. I remember…"

The Fletcher family wielded enormous influence, ranking among the most powerful forces in all of Hestovia.

Benedict Fletcher, the family head, was a cold and calculating man who had commanded fear from the moment he took control.

Yet, even this formidable figure had one weakness—his son, Murphy Fletcher. Murphy had been withdrawn since childhood, struggling with severe mental illness.

Adrian and Catherine hadn't wasted any time when they learned that Taylor had returned to the country just days earlier. They'd gone straight to arrange a meeting.

Taylor was the heir to a family of traditional medicine practitioners and had gained quite a reputation overseas in recent years. Yet, he kept such a low profile that nobody knew what he actually looked like.

Now that Taylor was back in the country, Adrian saw his opportunity.

His bad investments had already wiped out a small fortune. But if he could convince Taylor to cure Murphy, Benedict's influence as the family head would be more than enough to bail him out.

Adrian kept his tone polite. "Hi, you must be Amber Hilton, Dr. Presley's assistant, right? We were hoping to speak with him. Any chance you could help set that up?"

Behind the folding screen, Janelle poured herself a glass of juice, her movements slow and deliberate.

When she finally answered, her voice was flat. "Getting in to see him isn't tough, but he does have one condition."

Catherine's lips pressed into a thin line, a mix of nerves and anticipation tightening in her chest. "What does he need?"

"On your knees!"

The demand left Adrian and Catherine stunned into silence.

They needed to get on their knees simply to meet Taylor?

Catherine was the first to recover. Her jaw clenched, her expression darkening. "We came here in good faith, asking for Dr. Presley's help. But this? This is humiliating, don't you think?"

Besides, the voice sounded oddly familiar, but Catherine couldn't pin down where she'd heard it before.

Before she could dwell further on it, Janelle's icy voice came from behind the screen again, "Kneeling is Dr. Presley's rule. So? Do you still want to see him or not?"

Her tone made it obvious they were about to get thrown out. Adrian panicked instantly.

"We do! Of course we do!" He turned on Catherine, snapping, "Are you deaf? This is Dr. Presley's rule. If we want in, we play along. So kneel!"

Catherine ground her teeth. Becoming Adrian's wife meant a life of wealth, and that was worth swallowing her pride. So together, they knelt before the screen.

Janelle watched with a cold, subtle smile. "Perfect. Stay right there. Don't move."

Her hand slid out from behind the screen, gripping a phone pointed right at them as her melodious voice rang out. The camera flashed, bright and sudden.

Adrian's face burned with embarrassment. He flung an arm up to shield himself. "What are you doing?"

Janelle scowled at the blurry photo. Her voice was edged with irritation when she said, "I told you to kneel properly and stay still. If Dr. Presley doesn't see it, what's the point of you two kneeling?"

Adrian and Catherine shared a look, then gave a reluctant nod.

No wonder Amber had been Taylor's assistant for so long. She was always two steps ahead.

"Let's take that again," they said.

Adrian's and Catherine's legs were numb from kneeling by the time Janelle was done with the photos.

"So, we knelt. Would Dr. Presley—"

Janelle tucked her phone away and cut Adrian off languidly, "What's the rush? One of you still owes the other 20 slaps. You two can sort out who's doing the hitting."

Adrian and Catherine froze. Suddenly, they understood why getting an appointment with Taylor had been nearly impossible.

First, he made them kneel. Now, one of them had to slap the other 20 times? What kind of sick obsession was this?

"Adrian…" Catherine mumbled.

Her eyes welled up as she looked at him, her expression so heartbreaking that it could soften even the toughest person. But letting Adrian take the beating instead was out of the question.

He cleared his throat and brushed his thumb across her cheek. "Just hang in there a little longer, Cat. I'll go easy on you, okay?"

Her stomach twisted, but she could only nod meekly. "I'd do anything for you, Adrian."

Adrian slapped Catherine across the face.

"Harder!" Janelle demanded.

He hit her again and again until her mouth was bleeding and her head throbbed.

After the 18th slap, the office door suddenly swung open. A woman's voice, mid-conversation on the phone, cut through the room.

"Yeah, this is Amber Hilton, Dr. Presley's assistant. Oh, sorry, but Dr. Presley doesn't take patients from Solandria. Stop calling and find someone else."

The words froze Adrian and Catherine in place, with Adrian's hand hanging in the air.

Catherine's vision swam with spots as she turned toward the door. She froze, stunned to see Amber enter wearing a white lab coat.

She was Taylor's assistant? Then, who the hell was behind the screen?

Fury twisted Catherine's face as she shot to her feet. She snarled at the screen. "You're not Dr. Presley's assistant! Who are you?"

Adrian's expression darkened.

Janelle stood up slowly from behind the screen, meeting their furious, disbelieving glares as she stepped forward.

Chapter 3

"Janelle Moore!"

Janelle raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Well, well. It's been a while. Surprised I'm still alive?"

Adrian could only stare, utterly mesmerized by her beauty.

Catherine's face was still puffy from the slaps, but that didn't stop her. She charged at Janelle, arm raised. "You bitch! How dare you humiliate me? I'll kill you!"

Janelle didn't even blink. Her expression turned cold as she met Catherine's rage head-on.

Catherine couldn't even handle kneeling for a minute or taking a few slaps. If she'd gone through half the humiliation and torment Janelle endured, she'd have dropped dead on the spot.

Amber moved fast, grabbing Catherine's wrist in a vice-like grip. She loathed Catherine for betraying Janelle. Without thinking, she slapped Catherine hard across the face.

"This is Dr. Presley's friend. You think you can lay a finger on her?" Amber hissed.

"She's friends with Dr. Presley? No way!"

Catherine couldn't believe it. Years ago, Janelle had been thrown out of the Moore family without a penny to her name.

By all accounts, she should have been struggling just to get by with her illegitimate child, maybe even forced into prostitution or scavenging through trash. So, how in the world was she connected to Taylor?

Catherine shook her head wildly, her face twisting in near-hysteria. "No way. There's no chance she's connected to Dr. Presley. She's not even worth his time!"

Amber was about to fire back, but Janelle stopped her. She had no interest in spending another second around Catherine and Adrian. They disgusted her.

Her tone was razor-sharp as she ordered, "Don't waste your breath, Amber. Call security, get them out of here, and make sure they're banned from coming anywhere near our company again."

Amber gave a quick nod. "On it."

The security team moved fast. Catherine and Adrian were hauled outside and dumped on the street before they could even get a word out.

With them gone, Janelle finally breathed easier. The room instantly felt less suffocating. She should've been savoring her flawless revenge, but one glance at the clock sent a cold ripple through her.

Hannah and Tiffany had left a while ago. Why weren't they back yet?

Uneasy, Janelle told Amber to hold down the office while she grabbed her phone and rushed downstairs.

She was passing a sleek luxury car when the door flew open without warning. Strong hands seized her before she could even gasp, pulling her roughly into the car.

Startled, Janelle looked up to see the man gripping her arm. His voice cut through the air like a knife. "Mr. Fletcher wants to see you."

The last five years had turned Janelle into someone who didn't flinch. She sat perfectly still now, her face giving nothing away.

Since when did traffickers operate so openly? Grabbing women off the street like this? Mr. Fletcher? Was that the guy everyone kept mentioning?

The car went straight to the Fletcher residence.

The bodyguards yanked Janelle out of the car and pushed her toward the study, keeping her off-balance the whole way. Anyone would lose their patience after this.

"Quit shoving! I can walk by my—"

The words died in her throat when she saw the man behind the mahogany desk. The whole room seemed to shrink around him.

He reclined in his chair, fingers draped casually over the armrests. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze, sharp and glacial, prickled the back of her neck.

Good looks aside, it was his presence that commanded attention. He didn't need to move or speak to put people on edge.

Janelle's hands clenched at her sides, her jaw setting tight. So, she'd been right all along. The man staring back at her was Benedict, head of the Fletcher family.

She took a slow breath to steady herself before stepping forward, the weight of the room pressing against her.

Keeping her tone polite, she began, "Mr. Fletcher, would you mind telling me why we're meeting?"

Benedict's handsome face might as well have been carved from marble for all the emotion it showed. He skipped the pleasantries entirely.

"Ms. Moore, I know you're in touch with Taylor Presley. Share his contact details, and the Fletchers will ensure you're properly compensated," he said.

A chill settled in Janelle's stomach.

Since when have people asked for favors like that? His tone made it clear this wasn't a request. It was a threat. Refused, and she wouldn't walk out of there in one piece.

Janelle's eyes flickered subtly. Her smile was perfectly crafted to sell her helpless act. "Mr. Fletcher, I have no idea what you're talking about. You must've gotten the wrong idea. I'm nobody special.

"Dr. Presley's been kind enough to treat me, but that's it. There's no way I'd have ties to someone that important."

Benedict's dark, unsettling gaze slowly lifted to meet hers. The second their eyes locked, her pulse faltered. She wondered if that look was meant to paralyze her or send her bolting for the door.

No wonder Benedict was the renowned head of the Fletchers. He carried himself like someone who'd never heard the word "no" in his life.

But Benedict looked perfectly healthy, his complexion strong and vibrant. Was he after a psychiatric evaluation instead?

"Oh? So you went to see Taylor for treatment?" Benedict shot her a look, his icy gaze sharp, his voice quiet and cold. "What's wrong with you?"

"Uh, I…" Janelle trailed off, her mouth twitching as she fumbled for a response. "Oh! I-I've got brain damage! I grew up in the countryside, and one time, I spaced out while feeding the donkey.

"Next thing I knew, I was kicked right in the head. I didn't think much of it back then, but turns out it messed me up for good. Now I get these splitting headaches whenever it's cloudy or rainy."

Benedict's stern expression wavered for a split second, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

He braced his palms against the desk and pushed himself up, rising to his full height. The air between them grew heavy, charged with something unspoken.

Janelle took a step back, then another, until she hit the wall. She'd told herself that even if he saw through her lies, she could outrun him.

But now?

She swallowed hard, her throat going tight.

Benedict towered over her, his stare sharp and predatory, like the way a hawk watched a rabbit right before the strike.

Fighting him head-on? She wouldn't last two seconds.

Janelle held her act together. "M-Mr. Fletcher, I don't even know—"

"Then, why would I bring you here?"

Benedict crossed the space between them in a few quick strides, pinning her against the wall. His gaze cut through her, leaving no room for lies.

She stayed silent.

His voice remained icy, every word slicing deep. "You've been overseas for the past five years, always showing up in the same places as Taylor. Amber said you two were friends. But now, you're saying you don't even know him?"

Janelle pursed her lips and looked up at him. That was when it hit her—he knew the truth all along.

She wouldn't have hesitated to help if Benedict had been some random guy. But he was Adrian's uncle, and she wanted nothing to do with anyone tied to that jerk.

Benedict took in her icy stare and narrowed his eyes. "Starting to remember now?"

Janelle snapped back to reality, hiding the cold glint in her eyes before forcing another meek smile. "Mr. Fletcher, I…

"Okay, yes. Dr. Presley and I knew each other once, but we were barely more than strangers. Honestly, I have no way to contact him."

But something was off. Why did Benedict's scent feel so familiar?

Her gaze lingered on his sharp, almost too-perfect features as a quiet doubt settled in. She knew that scent from somewhere.

Benedict was about to fire back when the door suddenly slammed open with a sharp bang.

His assistant, Ethan Campbell, rushed in, his expression tense as he said, "Mr. Fletcher, Murphy's gone!"

Chapter 4

Ethan said, "We checked the surveillance footage and saw Murphy left on his own. After that, he stayed off surveillance cameras and vanished!"

Benedict turned sharply, his sharp gaze giving way to a flicker of urgency. "When did this happen?"

Ethan's expression turned grave. "About two hours ago. We thought Murphy wasn't taken. It looks like he was running away from home."

Janelle couldn't suppress a laugh. Apparently, even a kid had his limits when it came to Benedict's temper. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh when an icy glare cut through her.

Janelle's face went tense, and she said awkwardly, "Uh, I just… suddenly remembered this hilarious joke I saw online. I swear, I wasn't laughing at you."

Benedict shot her a warning look. Still, Murphy's safety was his main concern, so he ignored her for now.

Ethan caught the dark look on Benedict's face and quickly reassured him, "Don't stress too much, Mr. Fletcher. Murphy's sharp as a tack. He'll be just fine."

Ethan had spent eight years with Benedict, watching Murphy grow up. There was no question that Murphy was a tough kid.

Four years back, when Ethan and Benedict got home from a business trip, they found Murphy left inside a cardboard box, dumped outside the Fletcher residence gates.

The second the paternity test proved Murphy was his son, Benedict lost it. Why? He was furious that Murphy's mother could bring a child into the world and walk away without taking any responsibility.

From that moment on, Benedict did everything he could to give Murphy the best life possible.

No one would have guessed that Benedict—a man whose very name made industry titans shudder—had secretly practiced holding a doll countless times before he ever cradled Murphy in his arms.

He personally managed every detail of Murphy's life. That kind of commitment was rare for any father, let alone someone like Benedict, who ran the massive Fletcher Group and barely had a moment to breathe.

Now that Murphy was gone, Benedict was definitely the most desperate. He was panicked, sure, but at least he was still holding it together.

"Get everyone moving, now. Deploy drones to sweep the entire city. We need to find Murphy as fast as possible," Benedict ordered.

He was sure Murphy had gone looking for his mother. He wouldn't be this concerned if Murphy were healthy, but the boy had been fragile since birth.

At just three years old, Murphy had suffered a violent episode. His little body couldn't handle the stress, and he collapsed on the spot.

It took months of careful recovery before his condition finally stabilized for the time being. But ever since then, he'd developed severe autism, and his yearning for his mother had only gotten worse. Day after day, he begged to find her, leaving Benedict helpless.

Ethan didn't dare waste any time, not when it involved Murphy. He acknowledged the order and got to work right away.

Janelle's face gave nothing away as she watched Ethan leave in a hurry. But her eyes held a thoughtful gleam.

Murphy Fletcher?

As far as she knew, Benedict had always kept women at arm's length. There was no way he had a child. And yet, apparently, he did have a son. But who was the mother?

…

Meanwhile, Hannah and Tiffany happily munched on glazed donuts as they walked down the busy street.

Just then, Tiffany caught sight of a fried chicken nugget stand. Beaming, she wrapped her arms around Hannah's leg. "I'm really craving those nuggets, Hannah. But my mom doesn't like it when I eat fried stuff. Can you get some for me and just keep it between us?"

"Say no more. I'll be right back."

Hannah had always been a sucker for a pretty face. Seeing Tiffany dressed like a tomboy but speaking so sweetly just made her heart melt.

Even in masculine clothes, Tiffany was effortlessly charming. It had to be genetics working its magic.

Hannah couldn't help hoping Tiffany might become her daughter-in-law someday. If that didn't work out, maybe little Bella could be the one. But given Bella's fragile health...

The thought made Hannah shake her head with a sigh. Then, she turned and walked away.

Tiffany stood waiting, her face full of expectation. Then, out of nowhere, an adult's hand landed on her shoulder.

By the time Hannah returned with the nuggets, Tiffany was long gone.

…

The sleek black luxury car rolled smoothly down the road. Ethan shot a look at Tiffany, pinned between bodyguards in the back seat, but instead of relief, his face was tight with worry.

"Mr. Fletcher, we've got Murphy, but something's off. His condition's gotten worse, like he's disconnected from reality. It almost seems like schizophrenia or something!"

Benedict's expression shifted in a flash. He listened closely, catching the frantic voice of a child in the background, crying out for help, rambling about a kidnapping and something illegal until the voice started to give out.

Fear for Murphy shot through Benedict. "Hold on. I'm coming!"

Before leaving, Benedict fixed Janelle with an icy glare, his voice edged with warning as he said, "Ms. Moore, I'll give you extra time to think it over. The house has a landline. Call me when you've come to your senses."

Eager to placate him, Janelle nodded quickly and hummed in agreement.

Benedict's eyes flickered with doubt. She was being a little too compliant. But Murphy needed his attention, so he pushed Janelle from his mind. Without another word, he turned and left.

The door had just clicked shut when Janelle's phone rang.

Hannah's voice on the other end was thick with tears. "Janelle! It's Tiffany… She's gone! She wanted chicken nuggets, so I went to get some, but she wasn't there when I returned!"

A chill shot through Janelle's chest. "How long has she been missing?"

"Around ten minutes. I already called the police and checked everywhere nearby, but I didn't want to leave in case she comes back…"

Tiffany's safety was at risk, and Janelle's mind was racing. "Okay, focus. Don't freak out. Send me your location. I'm coming."

Janelle got the location as soon as she hung up. She glanced at it, tucked her phone away, and started looking for a way out. Her eyes swept the room before landing on the window.

Most people would die jumping from the fourth floor, let alone walk away unharmed. Benedict probably assumed an unarmed woman wouldn't dare, so he didn't even bother with the window.

But Janelle? That was nothing for her.

About a minute later, the sound of shattering glass echoed from the study. The bodyguards posted outside heard the noise and burst inside, only to find the window smashed and Janelle gone.

Meanwhile, Janelle had already slid down the drainpipe and landed in the bushes, slipping away unseen.

But the Fletcher residence was enormous, and as she hurried through the grounds, she realized she had no idea where she was going. She walked with a grim expression, angrily scuffing pebbles as she went.

Who in their right mind needed a house this huge? It was like a damn maze. And now, of course, she was hopelessly lost.

Janelle weaved through the busy maids, dodging left and right to stay unnoticed, until a pebble struck her back without warning. Her face went pale, and she froze mid-step.

She muttered a curse. Benedict had already caught up to her? No chance she was going back with him, not when her poor Tiffany, who couldn't even find her way out of a paper bag, was still lost out there.

Janelle wavered, unsure whether to bolt now or stall for a better chance, when a cold, youthful voice cut through her thoughts. "Who are you?"

She paused before turning her head, her movements tense.

The moment she did, her face lit up. "Baby! What are you doing here? Did you hear Mommy was here and came looking for me? Oh, my gosh, you should've told Hannah you were coming! She was scared half to death!"

Janelle rushed over and wrapped the child in a tight hug. In her excitement, she didn't notice how the little one had gone stiff in her arms.

Chapter 5

Murphy had always been a solitary, introverted boy. Nobody in the Fletcher residence ever dared to approach him. But now, for the first time, someone was showering him with hugs and kisses, even ruffling his hair with sudden affection.

He stood frozen, completely stunned. What was happening?

He had only gone outside to clear his head, weighed down by the ache of not having a mother. He'd noticed Janelle acting strangely when he returned, so he'd tossed a pebble her way.

The next thing he knew, she was rushing toward him, pulling him into a tight embrace. And now, she was calling herself his mommy?

For the first time, a flicker of emotion broke through Murphy's usual stoicism. His gaze dropped to the striking Janelle crouching eagerly before him.

He pursed his lips and murmured, "What did you just say?"

"Huh?" Janelle blinked at him, tilting her head slightly at his serious expression. "I said… You should've told Hannah you were coming."

"Before that."

"Before? Did you hear Mommy was here and came looking for me?"

Murphy's expression faltered as Janelle's words sank in. Doubt and longing flickered in his eyes.

He parted his lips, his voice tight and uncertain as he asked, "You're saying… you're my mom?"

Thrown by his reaction, Janelle frowned in concern. She reached out to press a hand to his forehead.

After a second, she let out a quiet laugh, relieved. "No fever, baby. What's going on? You're not seriously telling me you don't know who I am?"

Murphy's breath hitched, his nerves tangling his words. "N-No, it's not that…"

He wasn't sure why, but something about Janelle stirred a tenderness in him. Could this beautiful woman really be his mother?

The longer Murphy looked at her, the more convinced he became. For years, he'd dreamed of this moment, aching just to see her face. And now, she was here.

Without thinking, he threw himself into Janelle's arms, his voice small and soft, no longer guarded but raw with emotion. "Mommy, I finally found you."

He knew Benedict had lied to him. His mother hadn't abandoned him at all. She'd even come back for him.

As Janelle felt Murphy's sorrow and clinginess, her heart softened. She gently rubbed his back and whispered, "What's wrong, baby? Don't worry. I'm right here. Everything's okay."

She figured Tiffany must've heard she'd been taken and gotten scared. Still, Janelle never expected Tiffany to actually locate this place, not when she could get lost in her own neighborhood.

Now that was a miracle.

A quiet pride warmed Janelle's chest at how much Tiffany had grown. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone passing by, and her face paled.

Luckily, the stranger didn't even glance their way. Even so, they couldn't stay. It was time to go.

Janelle looked down at Murphy and kept her voice gentle. "Come home with Mommy, okay?"

A man as ruthless as Benedict wouldn't stop until he found Taylor. He'd already taken Janelle. If he got his hands on Tiffany, he'd use her as leverage to force the truth out of Janelle.

It was too dangerous. They needed to get out of here fast.

Without another thought, Janelle stood and took Murphy's hand. "Let's go, baby. We can talk when we get home."

Murphy looked up at Janelle like she was the only thing that mattered. He nodded. "Okay, Mommy. I'll go with you."

He'd just found his mother. The thought of losing her now was unbearable.

Anyway, Benedict wasn't going anywhere. Murphy had already slipped away once. It wouldn't make much difference whether he contacted Benedict now or later.

…

Benedict made his way down to the second floor. Before he could even reach the bedroom, the sound of chaos spilled out into the hallway.

"Mr. Fletcher, you're finally here!"

The second Ethan saw Benedict, his eyes brimmed with tears. He rushed over, head down in shame.

"This is all my fault, Mr. Fletcher. If I'd kept a closer eye on Murphy, his episode wouldn't have gotten this bad. Now, he's all worked up while rambling on about nonsense. He doesn't even know who I am and keeps saying we're the bad guys—"

Ethan was mid-sentence when something small and fast came barreling toward him. Before he could react, Tiffany slammed into him.

She clutched her head with a wince as she crumpled to the floor. Her plan had been to knock the "big meanie" over and bolt, but it hadn't worked out.

Benedict's gaze softened as he looked at Tiffany sprawled on the floor.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he reached out to her, trying to get her to talk.

But she slapped his hand away and shot to her feet, her voice sharp with anger. "Get your hands off me, jerk! One bully wasn't enough, so you had to bring backup? A bunch of grown men ganging up on a four-year-old? You're unbelievable!"

Benedict tensed at her words, his eyes turning red. "You don't even remember me, Murph?"

Tiffany hesitated, caught off guard by the softness in his voice. He didn't seem dangerous. If anything, he almost felt safe.

The moment that thought crossed her mind, she flinched.

That couldn't be right. He had to be a bad guy, putting on a kind act to hide his real intentions. A smart girl like her wasn't about to fall for a villain's tricks.

Tiffany puffed out her cheeks and huffed in frustration, putting as much distance between them as she could.

She yelled, "I don't know you! You're all liars, criminals, and kidnappers! I want my mom! Give her back right now, o-or I'll never talk to you again!"

There was no way this horrible man actually had a daughter. If he did, why would he snatch her just for being too adorable to resist? Only the worst kind of monsters stole kids.

Benedict had been worried, but the moment Tiffany said she wanted her mother, the concern in his eyes vanished, replaced by icy fury.

Ever since Murphy could talk, he'd been begging Benedict to bring his mother back.

Had he really learned to fake being sick just to see her? Why would anyone miss a woman who'd walked out on her own kid?

Tiffany could feel the icy rage coming off Benedict. Frightened, she pressed herself against the wall, her short hair practically standing on end.

Benedict was terrifying. The thought wouldn't leave her—what if bad guys really did gobble up kids? Right then, she promised herself she'd be good from now on and quit sneaking snacks.

Fear twisted in her chest. All she wanted was to go home.

Tiffany's panicked stare made Benedict tense up. He quickly dialed back the icy intensity clinging to him.

What was wrong with him? The woman who'd slept with him and left Murphy behind was the one to blame, not the boy. Murphy just wanted his mother. And according to the doctor, that longing would only worsen as he grew older.

A thought struck Benedict, and his gaze turned serious.

Maybe Murphy needed a stepmother.

Chapter 6

Benedict moved closer and crouched before Tiffany, keeping his voice calm. "I promise to find your mom, but you've got to promise me something, too. No more tantrums."

Tiffany pressed her lips together, scowling as she sank deeper into the corner. "I don't believe you. You're a bad guy, and bad guys always lie!"

Janelle had warned her not to fall for a kidnapper's nice words. It was all just a trick to mess with her head.

Benedict's chest tightened with restrained anger. He narrowed his eyes at Tiffany, his voice low and edged with warning when he said, "I've already gone easy on you. Don't push me."

Fear shot through Tiffany in an instant. "I-I'm sorry! I know I was wrong! I'll behave—no crying and no tantrums! I believe you'll help me find my mom…"

Benedict was terrifying, and she couldn't hold out any longer. But her surrender was just an act.

After all, Janelle was a genius hacker who effortlessly racked up awards. If Tiffany could survive this, Janelle would track her down faster than anyone expected.

"There we go. That's better." Benedict's expression softened as Tiffany finally settled down. He reached out and ruffled her hair, offering silent reassurance. But the weight in his chest only grew.

Murphy had always lived with severe autism. Most days, he barely managed to say a few words, but now, he just wouldn't stop talking. It felt unsettling.

Benedict looked at the tense Tiffany before him, his expression soft. "I could get you some new toys today. What would you like?"

Tiffany blinked up at him, her big eyes wide with surprise. She hadn't expected that.

After a brief pause, she asked hesitantly, "Can I have snacks instead? I want fries, custard tarts, hot dogs, chicken skewers, chips, glazed donuts, and ice-cream!"

Benedict's face fell. "Junk food isn't good for you. Someone's bringing you a real meal soon."

Tiffany felt a twinge of disappointment. But after a moment, she perked up again. "Then, what about dolls? I want a Princess Alyssa doll with all her dresses! Oh, and the storybook, too! And someone to read it to me!"

Playing with a doll while listening to a story? Tiffany decided that being kidnapped might not be so bad after all. She happily got lost in the idea, not noticing that Benedict had already hit his breaking point.

To him, it was obvious that she was just trying to annoy him on purpose.

Benedict's frown deepened, his face as cold as a sharpened blade. "No. You're not leaving this room if you keep talking nonsense!"

Tiffany's expression darkened the moment he refused. Her eyes flashed with anger. Since when was she spouting nonsense?

"You jerk! I knew you were lying to me! You never planned to buy me a toy. You're awful—a total monster! You're unbelievable!"

Ethan watched them face off from the sidelines, breaking into a cold sweat.

Murphy had only been gone for a short while. How did he suddenly know the names of so many junk foods? And now, he was into dolls? The kind girls loved? Was he possessed or what?

Concerned, Ethan shot a wary glance at Benedict. Just as he'd feared, Benedict wasn't just displeased. He was furious, his face darkening and his jaw clenching as he struggled to hold back his anger.

"Get the word out—Murph stays under close guard. Another escape, and you know what'll happen."

Ethan dipped his head. "Understood, Mr. Fletcher. We'll keep Murph under close watch."

Benedict turned and strode off.

Tiffany's furious shouts still echoed through the room, relentless.

Downstairs in the living room, a bodyguard stood frozen, too nervous to wipe the sweat trickling down his face. His anxiety only got worse when Benedict came downstairs.

"M-Mr. Fletcher…" he stammered. "Ms. Moore… She's gone!"

Benedict shot him an icy glare.

The bodyguard shuddered. He was so scared that he wanted to bury his face in the ground. "It's just… Ms. Moore had to have had training. After we heard the window break, we rushed downstairs to look for her. But she was gone, like she just disappeared into thin air."

Jumping from the window? His study was on the fourth floor. Apparently, she was more capable than he'd thought.

Benedict kept the cold gleam in his eyes hidden as he ordered, "Send someone after her. I want her back as soon as possible."

Unless she'd vanished from Valoria entirely, she wouldn't escape him.

The bodyguard nodded and left, leaving Benedict to withdraw into his study.

He lit a cigarette inside and studied the shattered window across the room, his eyes narrowed in thought. He stayed still until Ethan pushed the door open and walked in.

"Mr. Fletcher, we've taken care of things with Murphy. He won't be sneaking off again."

Benedict said nothing, and Ethan was too afraid to move. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Benedict stubbed out his cigarette.

His words came out deep and quiet. "Have you found the woman from that night five years ago?"

Chapter 7

Ethan could tell Benedict was furious, even though he wasn't showing it. A cold thread of fear coiled in his chest.

He kept his eyes down and answered honestly, "Mr. Fletcher, there's still… no progress."

No progress? Was the woman a ghost or something?

Benedict had been searching for her for four long years, but she was still nowhere to be found.

He traced the edge of the paper absently. His gaze dipped slightly, the cold lethality in his eyes just barely held in check.

He'd already waited four years. What was a little more time? Sooner or later, he'd find her. And when he did, that woman would pay for everything.

But right now, Murphy's illness was the real problem.

Benedict looked up, his eyes flicking to the side. "Bring Keira here."

"Right away, Mr. Fletcher."

Ethan knew Benedict was growing impatient. Since they couldn't find Taylor, Keira Baker was their only option.

The Bakers were a respected medical family, long connected to the Fletchers, and Keira herself was highly skilled. She'd practically helped raise Murphy from childhood.

Murphy treated Keira with cold disdain, but her refined manners and gentle nature—a product of the Baker family's elite upbringing—won Benedict over. He allowed her free access to the Fletcher residence.

But even after all these years, Murphy's condition hadn't gotten much better. At this point, the best they could do was let Keira manage his symptoms while they threw everything they had into finding Taylor.

Seeing no other option, Ethan left immediately to get things moving.

The Fletchers were frantically searching for Janelle, not knowing she'd already gotten home with Murphy.

After four years abroad, she'd put a lot of thought into her return. She'd bought a modest two-bedroom apartment in a regular Valoria neighborhood. It wasn't huge, but it was warm and inviting.

Janelle pushed through the door and sank onto the couch with a satisfied sigh. She glanced back at Murphy, still hovering in the doorway, and a flicker of confusion crossed her face.

"Baby, why aren't you coming in? Don't you like our new home?"

It made sense that Janelle would think that.

After living in what felt like a palace overseas, this place must have been a letdown. It wasn't surprising that she had a hard time adjusting.

Murphy stood stiffly, giving a slight shake of his head. "No… I like the place, Mommy."

It was his first time at Janelle's home, and he couldn't shake the unease or the pang of sadness.

The place was tiny. It didn't take much to figure out how much she must have struggled all these years. And still, she'd fought through every hardship just to get to him. It stirred something in his chest.

Janelle had no idea what he was thinking, of course. She smiled at his words, stepped forward, and scooped him up before shutting the door behind her.

Her eyes crinkled warmly as she said, "I know it's your first time here, and everything must feel strange. But once I wrap up my business and get settled in the country, we'll move somewhere bigger. Sound good?"

A flicker of light stirred in Murphy's dim gaze. Did that mean she wouldn't leave him behind again, no matter what?

He nodded eagerly, humming in response, his heart full of joy. Honestly, as long as Janelle was with him, he wouldn't have minded sleeping on the street.

Murphy's nod filled Janelle with warmth. His understanding meant everything. But she noticed he wasn't talking like he used to. His answers were getting shorter, and it was starting to worry her.

After all, Tiffany was usually a little chatterbox who lived for three things—eating, playing, and talking. Keeping her from speaking was practically torture.

Was she sick?

Janelle stroked Murphy's hair with a worried look. "Are you feeling sick, baby? Did you get hurt?"

It hadn't occurred to her before, but the Fletchers had impenetrable security. There was no chance Tiffany slipped in without being noticed.

Benedict must've taken Tiffany too when he saw Janelle wasn't budging. But Tiffany was smart and managed to escape, just like Janelle had.

The more Janelle thought about it, the angrier she got. She seethed in silence, calling Benedict a heartless bastard in her head. What kind of person would go after a four-year-old just to get their way?

"Come here, baby. Let me take a look at you."

Murphy clutched the hem of his shirt as Janelle reached for it, shaking his head. "Mommy, I'm not hurt. Everything's okay."

Janelle's chest tightened. "Baby, he took you, too, didn't he? Tell me the truth. You don't have to say you're fine if you're not."

Took him?

Murphy paused, his eyes clouding with confusion. He was the Fletcher heir. With Benedict's power and influence in Hestovia, no one would be stupid enough to lay a finger on him, let alone try to take him.

He shook his head. "Mommy, you're overthinking it. No one would ever try to take me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, no one would ever dare."

Anyone who even considered it had to be out of their mind.

Janelle's heart melted at Murphy's unwavering confidence. She pulled him into a hug and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.

"I always knew you were amazing, baby! Confidence is great, and so is being smart and brave. But you've got to be careful, too. I'd be so worried and heartbroken if some terrible villain ever took you. You know that, right?"

Murphy wasn't expecting the kiss. Heat rushed to his cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked endearingly flustered.

He hadn't seen it coming, but he was thrilled. So, this was what a mother's love felt like. The warmth she gave him was nothing like Benedict's.

"Yeah!" He nodded firmly.

Seeing Tiffany so unusually quiet and well-behaved made Janelle's heart swell. Bringing her back to the country had definitely been the best decision.

She'd changed so much already, acting more mature and levelheaded by the day.

Just then, the phone on the living room coffee table rang, sharp and insistent. Hannah's name flashed on the screen.

Janelle slapped her forehead. She'd forgotten to call Hannah.

As soon as she answered, Hannah's loud sobs came through the phone. "Janelle, I'm so sorry! Tiffany's been missing for too long. What if she's already out of the country? You know how fast traffickers move. What do we do if something happens to her?"

Hannah's loud wailing left Janelle between laughter and tears. "Stop crying. We found Tiffany!"

The sobbing stopped instantly.

Janelle couldn't help but laugh. She passed the phone to Murphy. "Here, baby. It's Hannah."

Murphy, confused, took it. "Hannah?"

"I'm here. Are you okay?" Hannah's voice shook as she swiped at her tears. Then, frustration edged into her words. "Janelle, you idiot! You couldn't even call me after you found her? I was worried sick!"

Janelle knew she was wrong and didn't hesitate to admit it. "You're right. My bad! She's fine. I just got so caught up in finding her that I forgot about you."

Hannah had pulled herself together by now. She wiped the dried tear streaks from her face and nodded. "Okay. Now that Tiffany's safe, I can finally relax. Got to go!"

Exasperated, Janelle found Hannah's sudden mood swing amusing.

She checked the time and turned to Murphy. "It's getting late, baby. Let's get you all clean in the bath. Then, we'll tuck in for the night."

Chapter 8

Murphy's face burned red at once, and he stiffened.

Was Janelle seriously going to bathe him? He was a boy. This was so embarrassing!

He wriggled free from her grip and stood stiffly in front of her, his hands fidgeting as he swallowed hard. They'd only just met, and he was already four years old. There was no way he was letting her bathe him.

"M-Mommy, I…"

Janelle's eyes lit up with amusement as she took in Murphy's flushed face. "What's wrong, baby? You're all red. Are you embarrassed?"

That was strange. Tiffany had always loved when Janelle helped with bath time.

Murphy ducked his head, gave a small nod, and nervously pursed his lips. "Mommy, I'm old enough to bathe myself now. I-I'm going to go take my bath."

Before she could respond, he spun around and hurried off. He even took a wrong turn in his rush. He skidded to a stop before backtracking and finally darting into the bathroom.

Janelle watched Murphy walk away, her eyes flickering faintly. Only when she heard the shower turn on did she let out a resigned smile.

Who would've thought that after coming home, even Tiffany, the little troublemaker, would be too shy to let Janelle help her bathe? She really had grown up.

With a chuckle and a sigh, Janelle pulled out her phone and looked up Benedict through some back channels. The more she scrolled, the more her expression darkened.

Benedict had taken over Fletcher Group in his teens, and in just three years, he turned it into a massive business empire, outpacing what most people achieve in a lifetime.

He operated with ruthless efficiency, his methods cold and unrelenting. And now, his focus was on her.

Even if she got away by some luck, Valoria was his territory. Who was to say he wouldn't send someone after her again? This wasn't going to be easy.

…

Meanwhile, Murphy finished his shower and changed into the clean, gender-neutral pajamas Janelle had left out for him.

The gesture touched him. Even after all this time apart, she still thought of everything. It was comforting to know how much she cared.

But as the warmth settled in, his mind drifted to Benedict. Now that he'd slipped away to Janelle's, Benedict was alone at home. If only the two could be together, everything would be perfect.

Murphy's gaze flickered slightly.

If he wanted to get Benedict and Janelle back together, he'd first need to understand why they'd split up. And more importantly, how did she feel about Benedict now? Only then could he figure out the right way forward.

Murphy took a slow, deep breath, straightened his clothes, and left the bathroom with composure.

The bedroom was cozy and inviting. Part of him just didn't want to go. Staying in the same room as Janelle would've been nice, but this was their first meeting. He didn't want to seem clingy or immature.

Janelle heard the bathroom door open, but Murphy still hadn't come over after what felt like forever.

She glanced up, confused. "Baby, what are you doing just standing there? Come here! I'll read you a bedtime story."

Murphy's eyes brightened at her words.

With the curtains drawn, the room was dim, lit only by the warm glow of a bedside lamp. When Murphy finally crossed the room, Janelle reached out, scooping him onto the bed.

Janelle picked up one of the books and waved it before Murphy. "Baby, look at the storybook I got you. Do you like it?"

Curled up on the bed, Murphy gave her a soft, warm smile. "Mommy, I love anything you pick for me."

But when he looked down and saw the book, he froze.

"The 100 Favorite Stories of Princesses"?

He pursed his lips as he leaned over to check the pile of books on the nightstand.

In the glow of the bedside lamp, Murphy could barely read the titles—"Princess Bedtime Stories", "The Little Princess on the Cloud", and "The Little Princess' Transformation".

He stared at the pastel pink and blue covers, sinking into an uneasy silence. He'd thought Janelle might want someone sweet and innocent.

Fine. He could play along, act cute, and ignore the fact that he'd rather be flipping through Benedict's books on economic law, investment strategies, or hacker defense manuals.

If it made her happy, he'd deal with it. But princess stories? Really? He hadn't seen that coming.

Murphy's expression was hard to read. Not wanting to upset Janelle, he asked cautiously, "Mommy, did you get all this for me?"

Janelle nodded like it was obvious. "Yeah, of course!"

While they were living abroad, Tiffany used to love it when Janelle read her princess stories.

Murphy said nothing.

Noticing his silence, Janelle frowned, confused. "Baby, what's the matter?"

Snapping back to the moment, Murphy forced a smile. "Nothing, I love them. Mommy, let's get started."

So what if he was going from economics to fairy tales? He could manage. The point wasn't really the princess stories, was it?

No. It was Janelle's voice!

Janelle propped a cushion behind her back and opened the storybook. Her voice was soft and steady as she started to read. The warm glow of the bedside lamp filled the room.

Murphy lay stretched out on the bed, watching her without blinking. He took in every detail of her face.

She was beautiful. And it wasn't just her looks. The melodic lilt of her voice was as refreshing and comforting as a spring breeze.

Murphy listened quietly as Janelle told these childish stories, his eyes slowly closing to the soothing sound of her voice.

Janelle thought he'd fallen asleep. She gently shut the book and was just reaching for the lamp when he whispered, "Mommy…"

"Huh?" Janelle paused. "Baby, you're still awake?"

Murphy carefully inched closer, then hesitated before speaking. "Mommy, I have a question…"

He wanted to ask why she had left Benedict.

Chapter 9

Murphy wanted to ask, but he stopped himself. He didn't know why Benedict and Janelle had split up, and he was afraid if he brought up a painful topic, she might get upset and leave him again.

His head dipped slightly.

Janelle laughed at the sight and ruffled his hair. "When have you ever held back with me? I'm your mom. No one's closer to you than I am. If there's something you want to know, just ask. You don't have to keep it in."

Murphy relaxed just enough to speak when he heard what she said, his voice sweet and a little stuffy. "Mommy, why did you and Daddy split up?"

He murmured the last part so quietly that it was almost too soft to hear. But Janelle still caught it, and for a brief moment, her arms around him stilled. She hesitated, not sure how to answer.

The memories flooded back. Back when she'd settled abroad, she'd tried to figure out what happened that night, but there were no clues.

The hotel's security footage had already been wiped, so she didn't even know who the man from that night was.

Tiffany had always seemed so carefree, never once asking about her father. Janelle had assumed it didn't bother her.

But now, a dull ache settled in Janelle's chest. Tiffany was just a kid, after all. Deep down, she must've craved a father's love.

The worst part was that Janelle couldn't tell Tiffany the truth. Bella needed that man to be her bone marrow donor, but Janelle refused to let her kids call him their father.

As the thought occurred to her, Janelle gazed at Murphy with tenderness and came to a decision. "Baby, it's not that I don't want to be with your dad. He… passed away."

She hoped putting it this way would maintain the illusion of a happy family, helping Tiffany come to terms with it more easily.

Janelle had no idea this explanation would rattle Murphy more than anything else. He blinked, his lips parting slightly in shock.

Dead? But he'd just seen Benedict that morning. How could he have died so suddenly?

After a brief pause to steady himself, Murphy put it together. Janelle was clearly furious with Benedict. That had to be why she'd said he was dead. But for her to go that far? She must've been beyond angry.

Murphy's lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something in Benedict's defense, but after a brief, futile struggle, he just lowered his head in defeat.

It was obvious Benedict and Janelle weren't anywhere close to making up.

Janelle saw how defeated Murphy looked and was about to say something to comfort him when her phone rang. She picked it up, confused.

The moment she saw the caller ID, her expression hardened with fury. She couldn't believe that scum of the earth actually had the nerve to call her.

…

Night had fallen by the time Ethan led an elegant woman carrying a case up to the second floor of the Fletcher residence. They stopped outside a closed door.

"Ms. Baker, Murphy is right inside," he said.

Keira gave him a nod and a quick glance. "Alright. I'll take it from here. Wait outside. I don't want to overwhelm Murphy with too many people at once."

Inside, the room was brightly lit. Though it was meant for a four-year-old, the bookshelf was filled with advanced programming manuals, finance books, and books on economic law.

Every item was arranged with precision, and even the walls stuck to a strict black-and-white color scheme. The whole room had an air of rigid discipline.

Tiffany sat on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees, looking utterly miserable. She just couldn't figure it out—how could that bad guy justify locking up someone as sweet and full of life as her in such a horrible place?

There was barely any food and nothing fun to pass the time. Even when she tried reading to take her mind off things, the only books around were dry, technical ones filled with terms she couldn't make sense of.

Her heart sank. What were these bad guys trying to do to her? Wasn't keeping her captive enough? Did they really have to torment someone as young and innocent as her?

Tiffany had just given up hope when the door suddenly swung open from the outside. This was her chance!

She threw herself off the bed and sprinted for the door as fast as her short legs could carry her. Her mind was screaming. She had to get out of this hellhole.

Keira had barely stepped inside when she spotted the small figure charging at her. The sight surprised her, but at the same time, warmth flooded through her.

Murphy had always ignored her before. Had he finally come around? Did he finally realize how kind she was to him?

She gave her softest smile and bent down. "Murph, come here. Let me—"

Before she could get the words out, Tiffany barreled into her, sending her tumbling to the ground with a pained yelp.

Tiffany pursed her lips and darted for the stairs, not even glancing back as she stepped over Keira, still sprawled on the floor after her hard fall. But before she could get far, a hand grabbed her collar and yanked her back.

Ethan hauled the little runaway in and let out a relieved sigh.

"Murphy, if you keep running, Mr. Fletcher's going to lose his temper," he said, almost pleading.

Tiffany fell silent. Was there really no way out?

She pressed her lips together, then raised her head and gave Ethan a desperate, pleading look. "Sir…"

Ethan stiffened at how softly she spoke. An icy shiver ran down his back.

Was Murphy seriously begging him now?

This wasn't good. Because Murphy was ice-cold, the kind of boy who couldn't be bothered with anyone.

Ethan's eyes stung with unshed tears. Crouching before Tiffany, he kept his voice polite and gentle. "Murphy, you're just sick right now. It's going to be okay. Don't be scared."

Tiffany wasn't having it.

"I'm not sick! Mommy says I'm in good shape!" she fired back, her voice loud and insistent.

Ethan had watched Murphy grow up, and it broke his heart to see him like this. Still, he had no choice but to guide him back to his room.

"Ms. Baker, I'll leave Murphy with you."

Keira awkwardly got up from the floor. "Sure, leave him to me. Don't worry!"

Tiffany watched helplessly as the door swung shut. Her eyes stayed fixed on it for a moment before her face fell. Her heart sank. That precious chance to escape was gone.

Keira walked toward her slowly, softening her voice as much as possible. "Murph, let me take a look at you, okay?"

Murph?

Tiffany frowned.

Who was that?

Chapter 10

Tiffany hadn't noticed earlier in her hurry, but now, she could see that Keira was actually pretty good-looking. Still, she was nowhere near as stunning as Janelle.

When Keira stepped toward her, Tiffany instantly backed up two steps, her expression tight with distrust. "Stay right there! I'm not sick! Take one more step, and I swear you'll regret it!"

Keira felt a flicker of disdain when Tiffany clenched her fists, trying to act tough.

Even so, she kept her tone gentle. "Murph, what's going on with you? You know who I am, right? I'm Ms. Baker. I'm not some kind of bad guy…"

"You're the bad guy!" Tiffany pointed at her, her face stern. "You can't even get my name right. I'm not falling for your tricks. You're all liars! Get out!"

Sure, she always ranked dead last in preschool, but she wasn't that easy to fool.

Keira studied Tiffany's guarded expression and slowly furrowed her brows. "Murph, you're Murphy, the Fletcher heir. You… Don't tell me you've lost your memory?"

The Fletcher heir?

It hit Tiffany all at once that these people had her mixed up with someone else!

The butler had called her "Murphy". That big meanie thought she was his son. It was all because they believed she was the Fletcher heir!

Tiffany couldn't believe how clueless these people were. She was obviously a sweet little girl. How much could she look like that Murphy guy for them to mix them up?

The more she thought about it, the more frustrated she felt. She put her hands on her hips and snapped, "You're the one with memory loss! I told you I'm not Murph! You've got the wrong person!"

Keira was confused by Tiffany's words.

Wrong person?

She might have believed it if not for Tiffany's face. There was no way she'd find another child who looked exactly like Murphy.

Setting her case down, she rummaged inside and pulled out a syringe. Then, she stepped forward. "Murphy, you're delirious from the illness. A quick shot will fix you right up."

Tiffany had always been terrified of injections. The moment she saw the syringe, her face turned pale, and she stumbled backward in panic.

"No shot! I'm not sick! Y-You guys are child traffickers! You're trying to drug me and sell me off… Back off, you old witch! Stay away from me!"

The insult made Keira's composure falter, her expression darkening.

She was the third daughter of the prestigious Baker family, a woman everyone admired. The Bakers were part of the elite, second only to the Fletchers in influence.

And yet, this miserable little brat had the nerve to call her an old witch?

Keira took a deep breath, keeping her smile in place. For Benedict, she'd endure even this.

She was almost on Tiffany now. With no way out, Tiffany acted on pure instinct. She grabbed the mug from the nightstand and hurled it at Keira as hard as she could.

The mug struck true. Keira cried out in pain as blood gushed from her nose.

"You little brat…"

She clutched her throbbing nose, gritted her teeth, and ran out in tears.

…

Benedict sat at his desk in the study, staring blankly at the papers in his hands. The pages were packed with dense text, but even after ten minutes, he hadn't turned a single one.

His mind kept drifting to Keira, who was upstairs in Murphy's room, tending to him. How was the treatment going?

Murphy had been unusually talkative all day, and that alone put Benedict on edge.

Just as his concern grew, the door opened. Keira walked in, holding her nose as blood dripped from it. "Mr. Fletcher…"

Benedict looked up, his expression tightening. "What happened?"

Keira grabbed two tissues from the desk to stem the bleeding, then wiped away her tears. "Mr. Fletcher, I tried to give Murph his shot, but he lost it and threw a mug at me. I—"

Before Keira could finish speaking, Benedict cut her off, "How's Murph?"

She fell silent at his question. Was the child the only thing he cared about? She was injured, and he hadn't even bothered to ask if she was okay.

Swallowing her frustration, she dropped her gaze and forced a look of sadness. "Mr. Fletcher, Murph is having another episode, worse than any he's ever had. He didn't even recognize me. T-There's nothing I can do."

Benedict's expression turned icy. A vein pulsed near his temple, and his grip on the pen tightened until it nearly snapped.

There was nothing she could do? Was Murphy's condition actually that serious?

After dealing with her nosebleed, Keira sighed on purpose. "Mr. Fletcher, it's a hereditary condition in the Fletcher family. Murph started showing symptoms earlier than you did, and that might be connected to her mother.

"He's still so young. Think about it—even you couldn't handle the pain when you had your first episode six years ago. How's a child that young supposed to endure it?"

Benedict's expression hardened.

Six years ago, his condition had gotten so bad that it left him almost delirious. Even now, the memory sent a chill through him. He wouldn't have gotten involved with that woman if it weren't for that episode.

The weight of his thoughts darkened his expression, and his voice took on a quiet intensity. "I've heard enough. If that's all, you may go. Ethan, escort her out."

Keira stiffened, surprised by his sudden dismissal. "Mr. Fletcher—"

"Right this way, Ms. Baker."

Her face tightened, but she held back her frustration, knowing better than to argue. "Alright. I'll be on my way, Mr. Fletcher. Don't hesitate to reach out if anything comes up about Murphy."

Benedict gave a faint hum in acknowledgment, his eyes drifting shut.

He had to find Taylor, and he had to do it fast. Murphy's illness wouldn't wait.

Chapter 11

Meanwhile, in Janelle's house, a phone was ringing incessantly.

As Janelle looked down at the caller ID, her eyes turned cold.

The call was from her father, James, the man who had kicked her out of the house when she was at her lowest. They hadn't spoken in five whole years, yet now, he was calling her all of a sudden.

She barely had to think to know that he had bad intentions for calling.

Afraid of spooking Murphy, Janelle calmed herself a little before stepping outside to answer the call. "What do you want?"

On the other end, James was enraged upon hearing her impatient tone. "Janelle, you ungrateful wretch! You've been gone for five years, and now that you're finally back, you didn't even think to visit me? If not for Catherine and Adrian, I'd still be clueless!"

Janelle let out a cold scoff. "Visit you? Where do you even get the nerve to say that? That's never going to happen, not in this lifetime."

James was so furious that smoke was practically coming out of his ears. "You disgrace! I'm your father! What kind of tone is that supposed to be?"

"Father? Hah!" With an icy expression, Janelle looked down at her polished nails, lightly tracing them. "My last name stopped being Moore five years ago. As for my so-called father, I consider him dead."

"You!" James was shaking with rage. Afraid his anger would turn into a stroke, he cut to the chase. "Ivan is currently in the hospital—he is seriously ill. If you don't come now, you'll be seeing his corpse real soon!"

Janelle paled a little as she listened to his shouts.

Her uncle, Ivan Moore, was in the hospital?

As far as she knew, Ivan had always been in good health. Ever since Quinn passed, Ivan had been the only one to truly care for her.

James always sided with Catherine and treated Janelle harshly. It was always Ivan who stepped in to mediate.

Sometimes, Janelle even questioned if James was her biological father. If he really was her father, then why would he treat her like dirt?

Regardless, apart from Quinn, Ivan was the only person in the world who'd ever really cared. Now that something had happened to him, there was no way she could stand by and do nothing.

"Send me the location!"

Without waiting for a response, Janelle hung up on James' furious yelling and went back inside.

Janelle met Murphy's big, dark eyes as soon as she looked up from her phone.

"Mommy, what's wrong?"

With a shake of her head, she went to ruffle his hair, saying in a gentle voice, "I have to go out for a bit. Be good and sleep by yourself, okay?"

Murphy nodded obediently. "Okay."

"Aww, my baby is the best! I'll be heading out now." Janelle planted a firm smooch on his cheek and quickly prepared to leave.

Murphy sat quietly on the bed with his storybook in his arms. As he watched her leave, he fell into a daze.

The house was so quiet without Janelle around. Even though he used to sleep alone all the time, after sharing a bed with her, he'd grown to love having her beside him at night.

What should he do for her to always stay by his side?

Murphy's bright head started working at full speed.

Janelle had mentioned that his father was dead. His best guess, after thinking it over, was that Benedict had done something to offend Janelle.

No surprise there since Benedict had such an icy face—even Murphy found him cold, let alone someone as beautiful as Janelle.

It would seem like he needed to take matters into his own hands.

With his mind made up, Murphy let out a soft sigh. Poor him—he was only a kid, yet he was already burdened with so much because of his family.

With a dramatic, world-weary sigh, Murphy pulled out his phone, scrolled down, and called Benedict's personal chef, Roger Schmitt.

Roger was one of the best Michilin-starred chefs who had served only the wealthiest and most important people. With Benedict now based in Valoria, Roger assumed the role of manager and head chef at a hotel owned by Fletcher Group.

Murphy's plan was simple. He was going to get Roger to prepare a feast, then tell Janelle that Benedict prepared it just for her. Once she was moved, she might just forgive Benedict.

The more Murphy thought about it, the more brilliant it seemed. Yes, this was what he was going to do.

…

Meanwhile, Janelle pulled into the parking lot of a private hospital in Valoria with a dramatic swerve and hurried in.

The door to the hospital room was open. As she approached the room, she could already spot a few people inside.

James, Catherine, and even Adrian were there.

"Well, it sure is lively in here," Janelle spoke lazily as she stepped through the door, only to be greeted by James' displeased face.

"What took you so long? We've been waiting here for ages!"

Catherine's expression was oddly tense.

As for Adrian, he hadn't taken his eyes off Janelle from the moment she walked in.

Janelle ignored them and went straight to the bedside. The sight that met her eyes made her heart ache so much that she could cry.

The once impeccably scrupulous Ivan now lay on the hospital bed with a tube in his throat, his complexion a ghostly shade of blue. He was so frail that it was as if a gust of wind could scatter him.

"What happened to Uncle Ivan? What illness is it?"

Snapping out of it, she stood up straight, glaring at the pack of wolves in the room. Her fists clenched as she fought back the urge to punch someone.

Catherine stood beside James, her tone lofty and self-important. "Uncle Ivan had a brain hemorrhage. He's about to undergo emergency surgery.

"We discussed it as a family and decided to hire the best possible surgeon to increase the chances of success. But the operation costs 800,000 dollars, and we don't have enough."

James nodded, adding, "I have 100,000 dollars on hand. Ivan used to dote on you the most, so the remaining 700,000 dollars shall be covered by you."

Chapter 12

Janelle let out a mocking laugh upon hearing what James said.

See? Just as she thought, nothing good ever came from these people. Of course she'd be willing to pay the money to save Ivan's life, but still…

There was an ache and a chill of disappointment in her heart.

These people only ever cared about money. Now that a family member was sick, they were sitting idly by, waiting stubbornly and shamelessly for her to deal with it.

James was Ivan's older brother, yet he'd rather watch his sibling suffer than fork over the money. They truly were scum of the earth.

Seeing Janelle stay silent, James grew anxious and immediately pointed at her, yelling, "Janelle, don't tell me you're refusing to pay! That's your uncle lying in that bed!"

Catherine chimed in, "He's right, Janelle. Uncle Ivan has always cared for you. Are you really going to just stand by and watch him die? You can't be so heartless!"

She spoke in a pitiful tone, feigning sorrow, but inside, she was sneering. She didn't care about Ivan one bit. As long as she could watch Janelle being cornered, she'd be happy.

700,000 dollars wasn't pocket change. She believed there was just no way Janelle would have that kind of money since she was a mere pitiful outcast.

Janelle would have to sell herself if she wanted to save Ivan, and all Catherine had to do was find out about it and "accidentally" expose it. By then, Taylor would probably want nothing to do with Janelle.

Janelle, unaware of their schemes, simply extended her hand coldly. "Where's Uncle Ivan's medical record? I want to see it."

James scowled in displeasure. "You don't know the first thing about medicine. What are you pretending to want to see? Would you even understand anything if you saw it? Your uncle's dying! What we need is money, so hand it over now!"

Catherine continued with her act, saying, "Dad's right! Stop wasting time here. Every minute you stall is another minute Uncle Ivan's life hangs in the balance!

"Or could it be that after all these years, you haven't saved a single cent? Oh, dear, then what are we going to do? Are you just going to watch him die?"

Hearing that, James started cursing at Janelle again.

Janelle remained expressionless, tuning out their barking as she scanned the room and located the medical record. She read through the file at lightning speed.

The noise around her was deafening. The father and daughter duo were in perfect sync, trying to paint Janelle as cold-blooded and ungrateful.

Just as James looked about ready to come over and hit Janelle, she calmly closed the file.

Looking up with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, she merely said, "Dad, stop trying to make money off the situation. I don't have the money."

Given this hospital's level of care, Ivan had a 60% chance of dying on the operating table. After going through the case carefully, she discovered some red flags.

These people weren't planning to save Ivan at all. Asking her to pay was just a cover so they could pocket it later.

They were absolutely despicable.

And judging by the complexity of Ivan's condition, no one else could handle the surgery. She was the only one who could guarantee success.

Hearing her response, James raised his hand in anger.

Just then, Adrian, who had been silent the whole time, stepped in to hold him back. "Mr. Moore, calm down."

He spoke slowly, putting on the appearance of a gentleman. "Janelle and I were once engaged, so she might just listen to me. Let me talk to her."

"You?" James shook his head with a sigh. "Adrian, this ingrate has no conscience. If she can just stand by and watch as her own uncle dies, what makes you think she'd listen to you?"

The moment Catherine heard Adrian speak, her face hardened with unease. "Yeah, Adrian. We're her family. If she wouldn't even listen to us, what makes you think she'd listen to you—"

Raising his hand, Adrian cut her off and turned to Janelle with a gentle smile. "I believe Janelle's not that cruel of a person. She'll listen to reason."

With that, he pulled Janelle out of the room.

It had been five years, and he had to admit—Janelle looked more beautiful than ever.

He figured she couldn't possibly have that much money, but that was fine. As long as she agreed to be his secret lover, he'd even find a way to come up with 1.7 million dollars, let alone 700,000 dollars.

Clearly, he hadn't noticed Catherine clenching her fists so hard that her nails dug into her palms and her eyes burning with jealousy and frustration.

Out in the hallway, Janelle shook him off and sneered. "Adrian, you really think too highly of yourself. What makes you think I'd ever listen to you?"

Frowning, Adrian tried to reason with her. "Don't be so stubborn, Janelle. Where are you going to find that kind of money? Your uncle is at death's door. If you don't come up with the money, he'll die!"

Her eyes narrowed as she sensed there was more to his words than met the ear. "Oh? Sounds like you have a solution."

"Of course I do!"

Looking haughty, Adrian confidently stepped closer. "Janelle, after you left all those years ago, I finally realized that the one I love has always been you. I couldn't forget about you. Catherine's just a substitute for you to fill the void you left behind."

Janelle's mouth twitched in disgust.

What utter garbage. She could vomit from hearing it.

She stood there coldly, giving him no response.

Adrian mistook her silence for shyness. Grabbing her shoulders, he exclaimed, "Janelle, be my lover. I promise you a life of luxury. I'll take care of everything, including your uncle's surgery costs!"

"Buzz off!" Janelle shouted furiously, seizing his arm and throwing him over her shoulder.

Adrian howled in pain as he crashed into the wall.

Janelle loomed over him, eyes full of obvious disdain. "Keep dreaming, Adrian. If you dare to gross me out again, I won't hesitate to strike again."

With that, she turned and walked away.

Behind her, the humiliated Adrian cussed her out nonstop.

Janelle couldn't be bothered to care about what he said since time was running out. She pulled a black mask from her pocket and put it on.

Walking toward the exit, she pulled out her phone, disguised her voice, and dialed a number.

As soon as the call connected, she spoke concisely, "This is Taylor Presley. I understand your hospital has an emergency brain hemorrhage case. I'll be performing that surgery myself."

Chapter 13

In the director's office, Leonard Cox was completely stunned when he received the call. "W-What? You… You're Dr. Presley?"

"That's right. I'm already at the hospital."

Upon hearing that, Leonard instantly jumped from his chair. "Y-You're here now?"

He quickly corrected himself, apologizing, "Oh, apologies. I mean, it's our utmost honor to have you here! With you personally handling the surgery, I believe the patient will recover in no time!"

Taylor's reputation was renowned worldwide. Everyone in the medical field knew of him.

After some flattery, Leonard couldn't help but request, "Dr. Presley, I've reviewed the case thoroughly. Since you'll be performing the surgery yourself, would it be possible to make this operation public? That way, our hospital staff could observe and learn as well."

The surgery had a high failure rate, but with Taylor leading it, success was all but guaranteed. If the hospital staff could learn even a fraction of Taylor's technique, it would be a huge gain.

"No. The surgery is not to be made public. Just find me a steady-handed assistant surgeon and nurse. Dr. Cox, please get the operating room ready right away. This patient can't afford any delays," Janelle stated firmly.

If the procedures were publicized, her identity would inevitably be exposed.

She had no interest in helping the Fletcher family. But if her cover was blown, she might not have a choice anymore.

Although Leonard was disappointed to hear her answer, he quickly nodded. "Understood. I'll get the operating room ready immediately!"

"Thank you, Dr. Cox."

While things were being arranged on that end, the three troublemakers in the hospital room were still making a ruckus nonstop, especially Adrian, who was fuming after being thrown over Janelle's shoulder.

He complained bitterly, "Mr. Moore, I tried to talk some sense into her, but she was completely unreasonable. Not only did she refuse to help, but she even attacked me when I wasn't prepared!"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Fletcher. That ungrateful daughter of mine is out of control! Next time I see her, I'll definitely teach her a lesson!"

Then, James couldn't resist asking, "By the way, Adrian… Did Janelle say whether she'd pay or not?"

It was obvious James didn't want to fork over that kind of money. He wasn't about to part with hundreds of thousands of dollars willingly.

Catherine also turned to Adrian, her gaze expectant.

The already frustrated Adrian snapped, "Of course she doesn't want to pay! That woman is just going to stand by and watch her uncle die without doing anything!"

At that moment, Leonard arrived in person. Seeing the commotion, he reminded them with a frown, "This is a hospital. Quiet down! You're disturbing the patient!"

He honestly couldn't understand why a doctor like Taylor would want to treat people like them.

With knitted brows, he added, "Consider yourselves lucky. The surgery fee will be waived. The operation will start shortly."

James was dumbfounded by his words. "W-What did you say, Dr. Cox?"

This was supposed to be an 800,000-dollar surgery! How could it be waived just like that?

Leonard replied begrudgingly, "You guys lucked out. Dr. Presley called earlier and said he'll be performing the surgery personally. Since a doctor of his caliber has personally come, the surgery fee will naturally be waived."

Hearing this, all three of them were completely shocked.

Assuming they were too thrilled to speak, Leonard left after telling them the surgery time.

James and Catherine exchanged a glance, their astonishment plain as day. They never expected that Taylor would come!

Adrian was the first to snap out of it. He quickly turned to Catherine, asking excitedly, "Catherine, were you the one who contacted Dr. Presley?"

He believed since he hadn't been able to get in contact with Taylor, it could only be Catherine.

Hearing that, James also turned to Catherine with joy and surprise. "Oh, Catherine! You really are my good daughter! You're the one who reached out to Dr. Presley, right? Well, you did say you tried getting in touch with him before, and now, he's really here! It's all thanks to you!"

Catherine was momentarily stunned.

Though Janelle had thrown a wrench in her plans before, she had managed to get her hands on Taylor's email by other means. She had sent over ten emails, all pleading with sincerity, but there had never been a response.

She had assumed they were just lost in the void. But clearly, Taylor wasn't one to turn a blind eye. He must've seen them and had come all this way because of her.

Snapping back to her senses, Catherine contained her excitement, nodding with a smile. "T-That's right. Dr. Presley must have been touched by my sincerity when I contacted him before. That's probably why he's decided to step in for Uncle Ivan's surgery.

"Now that Dr. Presley is helping us, we're practically acquainted. We should definitely treat him to a nice meal sometime, and I believe he won't just sit by and do nothing when he hears about Murphy's illness, either!"

Adrian felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his chest when he heard what she said. There was finally a sliver of hope, bringing a sense of calm and clarity to him.

Everything was finally falling into place. Once he established a good relationship with Taylor, Murphy could be treated. Surely then, Benedict would recognize his value and give him a real position in the Fletcher family.

Chapter 14

Catherine walked up to Adrian with a smile. "Adrian, I'd like to congratulate you in advance. I knew your career wouldn't just end here. You're destined for greatness, after all."

A flicker of pride appeared in Adrian's eyes. As he pulled her into his arms, he exclaimed, "Don't worry, Catherine! Once I've made a name for myself, I'll marry you. Then, you'll be a part of the Fletcher family!"

Catherine shyly nestled against his chest, her heart fluttering with excitement. But inwardly, she sneered with contempt.

She had thought Janelle had a close relationship with Taylor, but clearly, Janelle didn't matter to him at all. In the end, Taylor still came running to help her the moment he saw her emails.

With a smirk, Catherine closed her eyes as she leaned into Adrian's embrace. Once she married Adrian, she would become part of the Fletcher family. By then, the gap between her and Janelle would only grow wider.

…

Time passed quickly. As midnight approached, the surgery at Bamhart Hospital officially began.

Janelle, wearing a surgical mask and surgical gown, entered the operating room with her sterilized hands raised.

The room was quiet, with Ivan on the operating table. His face was deathly pale, and his eyes were shut. His body was hooked up to countless tubes. The weak rise and fall of his chest made it seem like his breathing might stop at any second.

Janelle closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were brimming with sorrow.

This was the uncle who had been there for her since childhood. After all these years apart, he had ended up like this.

Thankfully, she had the ability to save him.

Standing over the operating table, she looked down at the unconscious Ivan and whispered, "Uncle Ivan, don't be afraid. As long as I'm here, I won't let anything happen to you."

Naturally, there was no response since he was still unconscious.

Before long, Janelle composed herself before speaking in a calm tone, "The operation will begin now."

Inside the room, she performed the operation with steady hands and precise technique.

What she didn't know was that Leonard had the live feed from the operating room redirected to his office late that night. He sat in front of a laptop, watching the footage intently.

Though he had promised Taylor not to publicize this, he couldn't resist recording the footage. After all, with Taylor personally performing surgery in his hospital, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to observe the miracle doctor in action.

…

Just before dawn, Ethan rushed to the Fletcher residence in a panic.

Benedict was still in light sleep when the urgent knocking on his bedroom door sounded. As his narrow eyes opened, an icy chill filled the room, making the temperature drop by a few degrees instantly.

Benedict rose and put on something more presentable. As his lips parted slightly, he said, "Come in."

Hearing a response, Ethan immediately went in, greeted him respectfully, and got straight to the point.

"Mr. Fletcher, I have two things to report! First, the woman you asked me to find, Ms. Moore, hasn't been found, but our people found out that Dr. Taylor Presley has appeared at Bamhart Hospital and is currently participating in a surgery!"

The moment Ethan finished speaking, Benedict looked up at him. His cold, piercing eyes were enough to send a chill down the spine.

"How reliable is this intel?"

"Very!"

Lifting his chiseled face, Benedict fastened the last button of his shirt, grabbed his coat, and strode out. "Let's go."

…

About an hour later, the first light of dawn washed over the earth. Inside the operating room, Janelle had personally handled the entire surgery, including the final sutures.

The operation had been a great success. It was smooth from start to finish.

At that moment, the exhausted Janelle was carefully stitching Ivan's wound. She just couldn't bring herself to trust anyone else to do it.

While the final steps were being carried out in an orderly fashion inside, Catherine and the others, though reluctant to wait and suffer, still had to play the part of concerned family outside.

Just as the people in the corridor were dozing off, they were startled by the sounds coming from the far end of the hallway. The flurry of chaotic footsteps was so aggressive that it sounded like a raid was happening.

Catherine jerked her head up, instantly wide awake.

The usually quiet hallway, where only the occasional patient wandered, was filled with a group of stern-faced bodyguards in black suits running ahead to clear the way.

Their expressions were cold, their posture rigid. Anyone in their path quickly stepped aside, not daring to make eye contact with them.

Once they had taken positions on either side of the operating room door, an even more oppressive presence followed.

With long strides, the tall and imposing Benedict entered their field of vision. His face was icy and flawless, and his powerful presence was so overwhelming that it felt like the air itself had been compressed, making it impossible for anyone around to speak.

Even from a distance, Catherine couldn't take her eyes off him. She was just as intimidated as everyone else, but she couldn't help but feel excitement bubbling in her chest.

That terrifying air and that ethereal face could only belong to one person.

Catherine instantly knew that this could only be the legendary head of the Fletcher family, Benedict.

Adrian might be his nephew, but the difference between them was night and day. When it came to appearance, influence, and wealth, the difference between them was incomparable.

Benedict was the true chosen one—a living god not just in Valoria, but the entire country of Hestovia!

If she could be with a man like that…

The thought alone made Catherine swallow nervously and with great difficulty.

Despite the immense pressure, she forced herself to her feet and ran toward him in mere seconds. "M-Mr. Fletcher…"

Benedict's narrow, penetrating eyes were as cold as a frozen lake. A single look from him could plunge one into eternal frost, never to escape.

Catherine was so overwhelmed by his cold, powerful demeanor that she could hardly speak.

Just as she nervously clenched her fists, Benedict brushed past her and headed straight toward the operating room without so much as a glance at her.

It was as if she were not a person but a speck of dust too insignificant to notice.

Stunned, Catherine stood frozen in place.

Benedict strode to the operating room doors, his whole body emanating icy authority as he gave the order. "Open them!"

Just as the bodyguards moved, the operating room lights went out, and the door opened from inside.

At a glance, Benedict saw a woman standing not far away inside. Her back was toward him while she was putting away the surgical tools, still in her surgical gown.

Benedict's gaze sharpened. He stepped forward and grabbed the woman's wrist.

Chapter 15

Benedict tugged the woman's hand hard, causing the woman to let out a startled cry.

She turned around, revealing a delicate and unfamiliar face. "May… I help you?"

She wasn't the one he was looking for.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Benedict's gaze.

He glanced deeper into the operating room. The patient lay on the table, with two regular medical staff attending to him. They were clearly not the kind of people capable of leading a major surgery.

With a cold expression, he asked, "Where's Taylor Presley?"

As the nurse met his gaze, she felt like she was doused with a bucket of cold water. She stammered, "O-Once the operation ended, Dr. Presley left and should probably be in the elevator right about now."

Hearing that, Benedict immediately turned around and ran toward the elevators.

Meeting Taylor even once was difficult enough, and now with Murphy seriously unwell, he couldn't afford any further delay. He had to find Taylor so that Murphy could be treated.

Benedict soon arrived at the elevators.

At the moment, a familiar figure was standing in front of the elevator doors.

It was none other than Janelle, the woman who had escaped from the Fletcher residence by pretending to be weak and lulling him into lowering his guard—the first woman to ever treat him like a fool.

"Janelle Moore!"

The coldness in Benedict's gaze intensified. He stormed forward and pinned her against the wall.

Startled, Janella instinctively raised her hand to retaliate. But the moment she saw his face clearly, she froze and forced her hand down.

He was already too suspicious of her. She couldn't afford to slip up again.

Looking up, Janelle put on a charming smile. "Oh, Mr. Fletcher. What a coincidence."

Benedict narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing in this hospital?"

Even with her back against the wall, Janelle was still smiling, looking composed. "Seems like you didn't dig very deep when you had me investigated, Mr. Fletcher. You don't even know about my family members?

"My uncle just had surgery here. As his niece, of course I came to see him."

"Is that so?"

A faint, cold sneer appeared on Benedict's face. He clearly didn't buy it.

"Then, why the rush to leave? Your uncle just got out of surgery, and you're not even going in to see him?"

Janelle clenched her fists before relaxing them. Taking a deep breath, she kept her smile intact. "Well, I heard you were here, Mr. Fletcher. Our last conversation didn't end well, so I was scared. Should I have just stayed and waited for you to take me away again?"

Truth be told, Janelle wasn't confident at all when she said that. Fletcher Group's influence and reach defied imagination. If Benedict chose to dig deeper, he might uncover every secret identity she'd ever tried to hide.

But from the looks of it, maybe he hadn't figured it out yet.

The next second, Benedict stepped closer, his eyes sharp with suspicion. "You think I'll believe your lies again? Talk! Where's Taylor Presley? Don't try to fool me. You two are definitely more than just acquaintances!"

He never believed in coincidences. Janelle showing up wherever Taylor was was not a one-off occurrence.

With Janelle's background, there was no way she could have been at those places unless she had a close relationship with Taylor.

Janelle avoided his gaze, feigning ignorance. "Mr. Fletcher, I've said it like 800 times already—we really are not close, not even a little."

"I don't believe you."

Benedict's eyes darkened with anger. He raised his hand before lowering it again.

He truly wanted to strangle the deceitful Janelle. And yet, every time the thought arose, something inexplicable held him back.

There was something about her that seemed eerily familiar.

While Benedict cornered her step by step, Janelle kept an eye on the elevator display that was ticking closer to her floor and was feeling increasingly anxious.

How could she shake off the troublesome Benedict?

Benedict was the kind of man who crushed resistance in an instant. The only reason she could get away before was purely because he'd been momentarily careless.

If he caught her again, she wasn't sure she'd be able to flee a second time.

As her back touched the cold wall, Janelle feigned panic and cried out in protest, "Mr. Fletcher, just because you're rich and powerful doesn't mean you're above the law!

"You can't just pick on ordinary citizens like us. This is a lawful society. Aren't you afraid of being sued? I'll call the police and have you arrested!"

Benedict, unfazed, sneered. "Shall I lend you my phone, then?"

The speechless Janelle clenched her fists nervously, unnerved by his intense gaze.

Just as she was standing frozen like a statue while desperately thinking of a way out, a cheerful voice rang out from a distance, "Mr. Fletcher!"

Both of them turned instinctively toward the sound.

It was Catherine, running toward them with a radiant yet bashful smile.

The elevator doors slid open with a ding at that exact moment.

While Benedict was distracted, Janelle pushed him away with all her might before bolting into the elevator. The doors then closed.

Catherine watched her flee with a glint of malice in her eyes before masking it. She jogged up to Benedict, looking eager to please him.

She anxiously said, "Mr. Fletcher, that woman is my cousin. She's been unruly and poorly educated since childhood. If she's offended you in any way, I hope you won't take it to heart."

Benedict didn't respond. He simply withdrew his gaze from the elevator, showing no intention of talking to her.

Catherine bit her lip. She assumed Janelle must have said something to cause Benedict to ignore her.

Janelle would never miss a chance, would she? Even in such a situation, Janelle still badmouthed her to Benedict! What a poisonous snake!

Determined to strike first, Catherine continued, "Mr. Fletcher, my cousin has always been that way—cold-blooded and heartless. She doesn't care about family at all! It was the same this time as well.

"When she heard that our uncle needed money for his surgery, she ran off without a second thought for fear of being made to pay for it. It's absolutely disgraceful!"

She'd expected her words to turn Benedict against Janelle.

But to her surprise, he merely shot her a cold look before speaking in an annoyed tone, "I have eyes. I can judge people for myself."

Chapter 16

Who did Catherine think Benedict was?

With all his years of experience in the world of power and ambition, he instantly saw her for what she really was, which was the daughter of a homewrecker.

There was no doubt Catherine was her mother's child, a woman who was just as scheming and manipulative, exactly the kind of people he despised the most.

Right then, the elevator doors opened again.

Benedict turned and stepped in, leaving without hesitation.

Catherine didn't dare follow. That one glance from Benedict earlier had frozen her in place, as if she were encased in ice. Her legs felt like lead, weighing her down and stopping her from moving forward.

It took a long time before Catherine recovered from the powerful pressure of his presence.

Benedict was way too terrifying.

She pressed her lips together. Her back was drenched in sweat, but slowly, a twisted smile crept onto her face, which then shifted into one of determined ambition.

She had thought Adrian was already good enough for her, but the more she interacted with Benedict, the more she realized just how perfect he was.

Adrian was nothing but dust underfoot compared to Benedict.

That was the kind of man she should set her sights on.

With that in mind, Catherine reluctantly withdrew her gaze from the direction of the elevator. She figured such a grand appearance by Benedict had to be because of the legendary Taylor.

Since Taylor had helped her once already, if she reached out again, he surely wouldn't refuse. If she could get Taylor to treat Murphy, Benedict would definitely see her in a new light.

By then, if everything went according to plan, she might just get her chance.

Losing herself in her fantasies, Catherine was practically buzzing with excitement. She could already see herself basking in the glory of being the future lady of the Fletcher family!

While she was getting lost in her thoughts, the very man she was fantasizing about had just gotten into his car, his face dark as thunder. He immediately pulled out his phone and made a call.

Failing to find Taylor had left him in a foul mood.

The man on the other end sensed his mood and teased, "No wonder I've been having a bad feeling all day, like something was going to happen. Who would have thought that it was because I'd be getting a call from you?"

Frederick Strickland was Benedict's old friend. Since their families were acquainted, the two came to know each other since they were little.

Back in school, everyone kept their distance from Benedict, except for Frederick, who had always been different.

No matter how cold or indifferent Benedict was, Frederick stuck to him like glue. Eventually, Benedict just stopped trying to shake him off.

As they became adults, the Benedicts and Stricklands remained close, working closely together.

Frederick then went abroad to further his studies, so he hadn't been back for years. Even so, the two never stopped contacting each other and were the same as always.

In the confined space of the car, Benedict lowered his eyes, his gaze growing even more unreadable under the dim light. "I heard you came back a few days ago."

"Yeah, I did!"

At the moment, Frederick was lounging on the couch with his legs crossed. A faint smirk appeared on his devilish face.

"What's this? Did you call because you wanted to throw me a welcome-back party, or is there something you need from me?"

No one knew Benedict better than he did. After all, they'd been friends for a long time. If the ice block of a man was calling, it had to be for something important. Otherwise, he'd never call.

Sure enough, Benedict got straight to the point. "I need you to find out everything you can about someone."

Frederick used to be a hacker. With his skills, digging up someone's entire family history was practically child's play.

And right now, Benedict was desperate to find Taylor.

Even with his reach and resources, tracking someone who was actively avoiding him in this massive city had proven difficult.

"Someone?" Frederick swiped at his screen, then chuckled. "Let me guess—you're looking for Taylor, right? There's been plenty of gossip online lately. Who would've thought you, of all people, would hit a wall?"

Staying silent, Benedict pressed his lips together, his eyes dark as ink.

His long search for Taylor always brought him back to Janelle. The only reason he hadn't suspected her of being Taylor was that Taylor was said to be a man. Benedict would've suspected her long ago if it weren't for that.

Frederick remarked playfully, "Benedict, I swear, you've only ever lost your mind over two things. The first one is finding Taylor to treat Murph, and the other is that one-night stand with the mystery woman. Hasn't it been five years since you started looking for her?"

Benedict's face turned icy cold when he heard that. He said menacingly, "Frederick Strickland."

Frederick immediately dropped the topic. "Alright, alright! Still touchy as ever. Good thing that woman is great at staying hidden. If you'd caught her, she'd be… Uh, never mind!"

From the sound of it, Taylor had really stumped Benedict. Frederick guessed Murphy's condition must have taken a turn for the worse if Benedict was in such a hurry.

With that in mind, he started to get worried. "Ben, how's Murph been doing? That kid's always so quiet. He barely says a sentence a day! Don't let him turn out like you, man.

"At his age, he should be rowdy and full of energy. You need to find a way to liven him up, or his mental health will suffer."

Benedict's face twitched, his tone low as he said, "Frederick, his condition is worsening."

Just thinking about Murphy made his heart sink.

Murphy had always been quiet and withdrawn, something Benedict would worry over constantly.

He also used to hope that Murphy would one day be as energetic and playful as a normal child. But now that the wish had come true, it only made him more uneasy.

The current Murphy was acting like he was on the verge of a psychotic break. He was delusional, extremely hyper, and his preferences had changed completely.

How could Benedict not be worried?

Benedict lowered his gaze, the shadow of his lashes dimming the cold gleam in his gaze. "That's why I need you to find Taylor as soon as possible. We can't afford any more delays now that his condition is worsening."

Hearing the tone of Benedict's deep voice, Frederick finally realized how serious things had gotten. Dropping his unserious act, he nodded solemnly. "Got it. Just leave it to me."

Since Benedict was not in the mood for small talk, they ended the call shortly after.

What neither of them knew was that the real Murphy was already fully invested in his new life's mission, which was playing matchmaker for his parents.

He was currently making arrangements for a grand Michilin feast on Benedict's behalf.

Last night, not long after Janelle left, Murphy called Roger.

When the call connected, Roger asked in a stern voice, "Hello? Who's this?"

Murphy, who had an angelic face, placed his storybook aside. "Roger, it's me, Murphy."

Roger was stunned for a second, then delighted. "Oh, Mr. Murphy! What can I do for you? Since you called, it must mean you'd like to make another food request, right? Just name whatever you want!"

Murphy lifted his chin slightly, his voice cool and commanding as he said, "Roger, I'm bringing someone over tomorrow. Please coordinate with Velmont Hotel staff to ensure the grandest possible reception is prepared. Also, be sure to showcase all of your best signature dishes."

Hearing Murphy's tone made Roger feel an increasing sense of respect. Despite his young age, Murphy was already speaking with an air of authority reminiscent of Benedict.

Even from just hearing his voice, one could imagine the authority behind that angelic face.

"Of course, Mr. Murphy! Leave it to me. You don't have to worry about a thing. However, might I ask who the honored guest is?" Roger asked.

Murphy's autism was severe, after all, and he was even colder than Benedict. Who could possibly matter this much to him?

Chapter 17

With nothing to hide, Murphy simply said, "It's Mommy. The person you'll be receiving is my mommy, the lady of the Fletcher family! This will be her first appearance. Do you know what to do now?"

"What? Mrs. Fletcher has finally appeared?" Roger was shocked to hear that.

He had been working for Benedict for years, and since Murphy's arrival, his curiosity about the woman worthy of being by Benedict's side had only grown stronger.

Yet, as the years passed, there was still no news of her, while Murphy was already four and a half years old.

At long last, Murphy's mother had finally appeared!

Suppressing his excitement, Roger cautiously asked, "Mr. Murphy, may I ask what her name is? I need to inform the staff to avoid any mistakes when welcoming her tomorrow."

Murphy lifted his chin slightly, pride in his tone as he said, "Be sure to remember it. Her name is Janelle Moore!"

Roger silently repeated the words to himself and nodded repeatedly. "That's a great name, simple and easy to remember! Please rest assured, Mr. Murphy! Tomorrow's reception will go perfectly. There will be no mishaps whatsoever. I'll start the preparations now, okay?"

Murphy replied casually, "Okay. Thank you very much, Roger."

"My pleasure!"

Roger ended the call with a smile, then looked up with a stern and dignified expression.

He promptly summoned his 100 subordinates and ordered solemnly, "Everyone, I need your full attention! I've got a big, serious announcement to make today!"

Everyone quickly dropped what they were doing and gathered.

Though Roger was usually friendly and warm, those who had worked with him long enough knew that he only acted this seriously when handling something of utmost importance.

Moreover, there weren't many people in the world who could make Roger feel this level of pressure.

Gazing at the assembled group in front of him, Roger nodded in satisfaction and announced solemnly, "Our hotel will be receiving our most esteemed guest tomorrow! Show your very best skills and prepare a grand banquet!

"We'll be employing the highest standard of hospitality. If anyone dares to slip up tomorrow, I will personally throw them out of the hotel! Understood?"

Hearing this, the staff exchanged glances, feeling the pressure rise.

Someone cautiously asked, "Mr. Schmitt, you weren't this intense even when the president of Kranfort visited a while back. Could you tell us who we are receiving tomorrow? What country are they from?"

With a mocking snort, Roger lifted his brow. "Humph, those presidents and prime ministers are nothing compared to who's coming tomorrow!

"Listen up—the one coming is Mr. Murphy Fletcher's biological mother, who's also Mr. Fletcher's wife and the lady of the Fletcher family! If you understand her importance, stop standing around and get moving!"

Everyone was visibly shocked by the news and immediately sprang into action.

…

The next morning, Janelle ran out of the hospital, patting her chest in relief.

Being able to escape from Benedict again was all thanks to her mean-spirited cousin. If Catherine hadn't diverted Benedict's attention, she would probably be locked up in a tiny, dark room at the Fletcher residence by now.

She supposed Catherine wasn't all that useless, after all.

After hailing a taxi, she was just about to give her home address when her phone suddenly rang.

She answered the call, only to hear a sickeningly familiar voice. "Janelle, it's me—Adrian. I was wondering if you're free later. I'd like to treat you to a meal."

Knitting her brows, Janelle spoke in a tone full of disgust, "Don't make me sick, Adrian! Itching for another beating already, huh?"

Adrian's face turned dark immediately. "Janelle!"

She had utterly humiliated him last night. He was still limping from getting slammed into the wall. If it weren't for her beauty, he wouldn't even bother asking her out.

Janelle moved the phone away from her ear, ready to hang up and block him.

However, sensing her intent, Adrian immediately shouted, "Janelle! Your mother isn't dead!"

Janelle's finger froze just before she could end the call.

What did he say?

For years, she had believed Quinn was dead. But the crash had always seemed strange to her. Moreover, Quinn's body was never recovered from the scene. As such, the incident had been a mystery she could never quite let go of.

And now, Adrian was telling her Quinn was not dead?

Gripping her phone tightly, Janelle questioned in an anxious voice, "My mom's not dead? Then, where is she now? What do you know about the crash back then?"

Knowing he had the upper hand, Adrian said with a smirk, "If you want the truth, come to Velmont Hotel. Once I meet you there, I'll tell you everything."

With that, confident she would come, Adrian hung up.

Janelle stared at her phone, frustration simmering in her chest.

Of course she couldn't just ignore anything related to Quinn. Even if it was just a sliver of hope and even if it might be one of Adrian's lies, she had no choice but to walk into the trap.

Janelle looked up at the driver. "I need to get to Velmont Hotel."

The car turned around. With an icy expression, Janelle texted Murphy, "Baby, something came up. I'll be home a little later. Be good, okay?"

Not long after, a reply came in. "Mommy, where are you going?"

Upon seeing his message, she hesitated for a moment before replying, "I'm going to Velmont Hotel to meet a friend."

She hit send, but she didn't get a response. It was as if she had never even sent the message.

She leaned back in her seat, sighed softly, and closed her eyes for some shut-eye.

Little did Janelle know that the very man she had been trying so hard to avoid was at Velmont Hotel, a hotel owned by Fletcher Group, at that exact moment, checking on the operations.

Ethan was standing beside Benedict, respectfully reporting, "Mr. Fletcher, this is the hotel's performance for last quarter. Revenue is up about 11% year-over-year.

"Our real estate, tourism, and entertainment divisions are all experiencing stable growth, with the jewelry business also on an upward trajectory."

With an indifferent and cold expression, Benedict said, "If my memory serves me right, our jewelry division is holding an exhibition soon, right?"

Ethan held back his excitement, saying, "Yes, Mr. Fletcher. But the design phase for the exhibition won't start for another two weeks. We're currently in the process of recruiting jewelry designers.

"We've already invited several renowned designers in the jewelry industry, but so far, we haven't been able to contact Kay…"

Kay was a world-class jewelry designer. In recent years, many luxury brands had collaborated with them, making Kay a symbol of the high-end jewelry world.

With a sigh, Ethan added, "Mr. Fletcher, if we can get Kay on board for the exhibition, it'll be a huge boost for our jewelry division internationally. But Kay has been living abroad and is notoriously hard to track."

Benedict responded flatly, "Find a way to invite them. As long as you can get them to come, we can raise the budget. Make it happen."

"Understood."

Just then, a few staff members nearby could be heard whispering, "I was off yesterday, but I heard Mr. Murphy has invited Mrs. Fletcher here for a meal. Is that true?"

"Of course it's true. He was super serious about it and even personally took care of all the arrangements yesterday.

"And seeing that Mr. Fletcher is also here, it would seem that Mr. Murphy wasn't lying."

"Oh, my God, I can't believe I'll get to see her in person! I'm so excited!"

"What are you all talking about?"

The employees were chatting away when Ethan suddenly stormed over, his face dark with anger.

"What nonsense are you gossiping about? Don't you know that discussing Mr. Fletcher's private matters is strictly forbidden? Do you all still want to keep your jobs?"

Mrs. Fletcher? Since when had there been a Mrs. Fletcher?

Chapter 18

Benedict loathed that irresponsible woman to the core, yet these people still dared to gossip about his private life in secret? Unbelievable.

Just now, as Ethan was standing there listening and sneaking glances at Benedict's expression, his heart had been beating out of his chest from fear.

Fortunately, Benedict hadn't lost his temper. Otherwise, everyone would've been in serious trouble.

After reprimanding the employees, Ethan returned to Benedict and respectfully reported, "Mr. Fletcher, I've already dealt with them. I promise it won't happen again."

With narrowed eyes, Benedict said in a low voice, "Find out where Murphy is right now. See if he has snuck out again."

Only Murphy could be behind this for such absurd rumors to spread.

Upon receiving the order, Ethan immediately contacted the butler.

A moment later, Ethan said honestly, "Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Murphy is at home behaving himself. The butler even sent a video. Would you like to take a look?"

Benedict took the phone and stared at the screen.

In the video, a child could be seen lying on the bed out of sheer boredom, snacking on nuts.

Even though Tiffany was merely munching on nuts to pass the time, she savored them as if she were eating the finest delicacy.

The video was five minutes long, and Benedict watched it in full before handing the phone back.

The cold expression on his stunning face seemed to thaw like melting snow. Compared to the stern and aloof expression he showed earlier, he looked much more at ease.

Seeing this, Ethan quietly let out a sigh of relief.

Ever since Murphy came into his life, Benedict had grown a soft spot and a sense of emotional attachment.

Though Benedict often worried about that son of his, there was no hiding the fact that the mere mention of Murphy could soften him.

"Mr. Fletcher, should we penalize those employees?"

At that, Benedict let out a cold snort, narrowing his eyes at him. "It's just baseless rumors. Murphy doesn't have access to any communication devices.

"Even if he wanted to stir up trouble, he couldn't contact anyone. Let it go this time. But send out a notice—if it happens again, I won't be so lenient."

"Understood, Mr. Fletcher."

While Benedict continued his inspection of the hotel, it was inevitable that the kitchen staff caught wind of his presence.

Everyone in the kitchen was buzzing with excitement.

If there had been doubts about Murphy's words before, Benedict being there that day certainly confirmed that the lady of the Fletcher family was indeed coming.

Otherwise, why else would Benedict choose today of all days to visit? He had to be here to oversee preparations for her welcoming banquet. Who would have thought Benedict cared so much about her?

With that thought, everyone was filled with motivation and worked at full speed to prepare the grand feast.

Everything at the hotel proceeded as usual, showing no outward signs of change.

Just after Benedict left the hotel lobby, a taxi slowly pulled up to the entrance.

Janelle paid the fare and stepped out, walking into the hotel.

Since she was there to meet Adrian, she was not in a good mood. Her expression was icy as she walked in.

Seeing that someone had entered, the front desk receptionist immediately stepped forward.

With a professional smile, the young receptionist asked, "Miss, may I have your name? Do you have a reservation?"

Janelle nodded. "Sure, I'm Janelle Moore. I don't have a reservation, but I'm waiting for someone."

She was already there, so where was that jerk Adrian?

Growing impatient, Janelle pulled out her phone and began tapping away, sending Adrian a message. She was so focused on her phone that she didn't notice the receptionist's shocked expression.

Janelle… Janelle Moore! Wasn't that the name of Benedict's wife?

No wonder Janelle was so stunning and carried herself with such poise—she was Benedict's wife!

The receptionist did think that Janelle's cold expression resembled Benedict's.

Oh, so this was what people meant when they said couples would start to look alike…

There was no way she could risk offending Janelle. She had to report this to Roger immediately!

Putting on her brightest smile, the receptionist said, "Of course you can wait. Please have a seat while I contact someone to receive you."

She was about to make a call but stopped as she thought calling wouldn't be respectful enough. As such, she decided to go upstairs and report it in person.

After the receptionist left, Adrian arrived.

Dressed in a suit and his hair stiff with gel, he strutted into the hotel with smug confidence. "Oh, you're early."

He boasted smugly, "Do you see this? This is one of the best hotels owned by the Fletcher family. It ranks among the top three internationally in terms of luxury!

"If I hadn't invited you here, someone like you would have never had the chance to set foot in a place like this in your lifetime!"

Janelle scoffed. "If you want to make a fool of yourself, go ahead, but don't drag me down with you.

"Anyone who doesn't know better might actually think this place belongs to you. It has absolutely nothing to do with you, yet you have the nerve to show off. You sure are shameless."

"You…"

Janelle had no qualms about tearing down his ego, which caused Adrian to grit his teeth in anger.

But as he looked at her icy, yet breathtakingly beautiful face, he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

"It's fine. I'm willing to tolerate all your little tantrums. I won't get angry with you."

As he spoke, Adrian discreetly sized her up. The more he stared, the brighter his eyes gleamed. His heart pounded uncontrollably from the excitement.

It had been a long time since he'd taken a good look at her.

How had he not realized how stunning she was five years ago? Not only were her features delicate and refined, but her demeanor was exceptionally rare and noble.

She was like a rare flower blooming on a mountaintop, making people instinctively want to look up to her.