Fabian stood in the lobby, watching the revolving doors long after Angelena had left. He rubbed his temples, a sharp spike of pain shooting through his skull.
He looked down at Leland, who was still sniffling against his shoulder. As Fabian adjusted his grip, a faint, incredibly distinct scent drifted up from Leland's collar.
Fabian froze. His breath caught in his throat.
It was the scent. The medicinal, calming fragrance from that night in the hotel five years ago. The only thing that had ever cured his insomnia.
His eyes snapped to Alex. "Add something to that background check," Fabian commanded, his voice tight. "Find out if she has any background in traditional medicine or pharmacology. Leave no stone unturned."
Across the city, Angelena unlocked the door to her high-end Upper East Side apartment, provided by her biotech firm.
The moment they were inside, Brigida kicked off her shoes. She sprinted straight to the living room, hopped onto the desk chair, and flipped open a sleek laptop. Her small fingers flew across the keyboard in a blur, lines of code reflecting in her dark eyes.
"I'm hacking the Waldorf's security grid," Brigida announced. "I'm going to find out who that jerk is."
Angelena pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out an exhausted sigh. She walked over and gently closed the laptop screen. "No hacking. I told you, we do not provoke dangerous men. We stay off the radar."
Domenica sat on the rug, hugging a stuffed rabbit. She pouted her lips. "But Mommy, that mean man... he looked exactly like the Daddy in my dreams."
Angelena's heart skipped a beat. The memory of that dark, terrifying night flashed behind her eyes. She pushed it down instantly. "Your father is dead, Domenica. I've told you this. Don't mention him again."
Back at the Richmond Corporation headquarters, Alex knocked twice before entering the sprawling, glass-walled CEO office. He placed a thin manila folder on Fabian's desk.
Fabian flipped it open. His frown deepened with every page he read.
"Angelena Beasley," Alex summarized. "Executive Director of a biotech firm. Lived abroad for the last five years. Her record is completely clean. Flawless, actually."
"Too flawless," Fabian muttered, tossing the file onto the desk. "It looks manufactured. There are zero medical records from five years ago. Her background is heavily encrypted, but it's sloppy-like a cheap shell game designed to throw us off. She is clearly backed by a massive, underground corporate syndicate pulling her strings."
Fabian leaned back in his leather chair, a cold sneer forming on his lips. "She's a pawn. A corporate plant sent by a rival syndicate to get close to my sons."
The heavy oak doors of the office suddenly swung open. Arleen Schaefer, Fabian's nominal childhood friend and the woman his grandmother desperately wanted him to marry, sauntered in. She wore a tight designer dress, carrying two cups of artisanal coffee.
Arleen's eyes darted to the file on the desk. She saw Angelena's photo. A flash of pure, venomous panic crossed her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a look of dramatic concern.
"Oh my," Arleen gasped, placing a hand over her chest. "Fabian, why do you have a file on her?"
Fabian looked up, his eyes narrowing. "You know her?"
Arleen bit her lower lip, looking hesitant. "Well, everyone in our circle used to know her. She was kicked out of her family five years ago. The rumors... well, they said her private life was incredibly messy. She would do anything for money."
Fabian felt a surge of disgust. "Keep your gossip to yourself, Arleen. Don't interfere in my business." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Arleen's face flushed with embarrassment, and she quickly backed out of the room.
That night, Angelena stood in her private, soundproofed laboratory inside her apartment. She was mixing a new batch of calming essential oils, but her hands were unsteady. Leland's tear-filled eyes kept flashing in her mind.
"Damn it," she cursed, accidentally knocking over a glass beaker. Why did she care about that arrogant bastard's son?
Suddenly, her encrypted burner phone lit up on the counter. It was a message from 'Ghost', her dark web informant.
[Someone is dropping heavy cash looking for 'Angel'. They are tracking your digital footprint. ]
Angelena's eyes turned icy. She dropped her pipette and moved to her multi-monitor setup. Her fingers danced across the mechanical keyboard, running a counter-trace program.
The IP address pinged back. It was coming directly from the Richmond Corporation servers.
Fabian wasn't just looking into her public profile. He was hunting for the legendary underground doctor, "Angel". He was hunting her.
A cold smirk played on Angelena's lips. She activated her custom firewall, instantly generating a dozen ghost IP addresses, bouncing her location signal across servers in Eastern Europe to throw his tech team off the scent.
The next morning, chaos erupted inside the Richmond estate.
Leland was seizing. His temperature had spiked to 104 degrees. He thrashed violently on his bed, his eyes rolling back.
The family doctor stood by helplessly, sweating profusely. "Mr. Richmond, his fever isn't responding to any medication. We need to hospitalize him, but moving him during a seizure is too dangerous!"
Fabian stood frozen, his heart being ripped to shreds. He watched his son suffer. Suddenly, the memory of Angelena pressing her fingers into Leland's stomach in the car flashed in his mind. The way Leland had instantly calmed down.
Logic screamed that she was a dangerous spy. But the desperate terror of a father silenced his logic.
He pulled out his phone. "Alex. Get her. Now."
Half an hour later, Angelena pulled her car into the underground parking garage of her office building. Before she could even put the car in park, two black Range Rovers screeched to a halt, boxing her in completely.
Four massive bodyguards stepped out. One yanked her driver-side door open.
"Ms. Beasley," the lead guard said, his tone a mix of absolute authority and desperate pleading. "You need to come with us to the Richmond estate immediately. The young master is having a febrile seizure."
Angelena's first instinct was to reach for her pepper spray and call the police. But the words "febrile seizure" hit her hard. The image of the little boy who had clung to her neck overrode her anger.
She grabbed her custom medical kit from the passenger seat. Her face was set in stone as she stepped out of her car and into the back of the Range Rover, heading straight back into the storm she had tried to escape.
