The car turned into Caius’ mansion—a massive property with a front and back garden, a pool, even a neatly trimmed patch of lawn meant for pets.
Of course, Caius had no pets—at least, not yet. But the lawn was kept perfectly trimmed, empty, as if waiting.
Jada had lived here for some time before making her public reappearance in front of Walter.
She had studied the changes in the business world, approached Caius with an offer, and once he agreed to cooperate, she moved in—rarely returning to the Brooks family home.
Mr. Brooks was a workaholic. Jada’s absence didn’t raise suspicion.
She changed her shoes at the door and glanced at Caius sitting in the living room, his back to her.
When he didn’t speak, she called out a polite greeting and went upstairs.
Strangely, when they first struck their deal, Caius’ one condition had been that she move in with him. But since she’d done so, he’d given her a separate bedroom and had never tried to cross the line.
She couldn’t figure him out.
Not that it mattered. She didn’t care about the eccentricities of a business partner.
Caius’ mansion was coldly minimalistic—white, gray, black everywhere.
Her own room had started that way too, but over time small touches appeared: pale-blue curtains, warm star-shaped fairy lights, a plush white rug.
She hadn’t asked for any of it, but by the time she noticed, the room looked like a place she would have once loved.
After showering, she half-dried her hair, collapsed into bed, and fell asleep almost immediately.
Downstairs, Caius sat by the window, staring into the night. After a long silence, he took the cracked phone Ethan had retrieved and dialed.
“Any progress on what I asked you to investigate? The days when she was kidnapped three years ago—what really happened?”
The voice on the other end was faint. “All surveillance was destroyed. But per your lead, we found traces of the one kidnapper who escaped. Catch him, and we’ll have answers.”
“But he slipped away again. We need time to track him down.”
Caius’ hand tightened on the phone. After a pause, he said coldly, “Do it. At any cost.”
When the call ended, he dismissed his men and wheeled himself upstairs.
At Jada’s bedroom door, he hesitated, then knocked softly.
No answer.
He opened the door.
Warm light spilled from the bedside lamp. Jada was already asleep.
Caius stepped closer, took her hand gently.
All the emotion he had forced down during the day surged up. His dark eyes softened with unspoken love and pain—dangerous, burning, threatening to consume what little reason he had left.
