Chapter 11

Evelyn Laurent sat by the floor-to-ceiling window of the Langley family mansion. Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a warm glow over her. She looked down at her hands, her nails neatly trimmed and rounded.

Victoria Langley approached with a fruit platter, setting it gently before her. "Evelyn, have some fruit."

"Thank you," Evelyn replied politely, though she didn’t reach for it.

Victoria sighed softly at her reserved demeanor. She turned and dialed her husband’s number. "Don’t come back yet. Let Evelyn adjust for a few days."

Richard Langley’s voice came through the phone. "Understood. We’ll handle the banquet preparations in the meantime."

After hanging up, Victoria glanced back at Evelyn. The young woman was staring out the window, lost in thought, sunlight dappling her lashes with delicate shadows.

At the Sullivan estate, Ethan Sullivan stepped out of his car and strode through the front gates without expression. The butler greeted him. "Young Master, your father is waiting for you."

In the living room, Vincent Sullivan set down his newspaper. "Where’s Evelyn?"

"Returned to the Langleys," Ethan replied flatly.

Vincent frowned. "Did you give her the gift?"

"No." Ethan removed his suit jacket. "She needs time with her family."

Vincent nodded thoughtfully, then brightened. "What about gifting the Langleys the East District land?"

Ethan didn’t respond, heading straight upstairs.

Once behind closed doors, his expression darkened. He opened his laptop, and an encrypted chat window appeared.

"Any updates?"

The reply came swiftly. "Still no leads, boss."

Ethan’s fingers hovered over the keyboard before typing, "Keep searching."

He shut the laptop and pulled a velvet box from the depths of his drawer. Inside lay a faded woven charm bracelet.

At thirteen, he’d been kidnapped and locked in a basement. In the darkness, a small girl had taken his hand.

"My name is Cici," she’d whispered, a red butterfly tattoo behind her ear.

They’d promised to meet under the great tree at the mountain’s base. But when night fell, his men brought only grim news: "That girl... might be gone."

Ethan clenched the bracelet, his knuckles whitening.

A knock came at the door. "Young Master, dinner is ready."

"Understood." He tucked the box away, his stormy expression smoothing into practiced calm.

The mirror reflected a man of effortless grace. Ethan adjusted his tie, lips curving into a perfect, measured smile.

He would find Cici. As for Evelyn Laurent? She was merely a temporary arrangement.