Dolan Xylon

As the Scott siblings grappled with their uncertainties, a maid hurried over, her face etched with concern.

"Master," she said in a rush, "the eldest son of the Xylon family is here and insists on seeing you at once!"

Adam, his features frozen in a mask of shock and apprehension, rose from the sofa. His movements were rigid, his complexion drained of color, a blend of surprise and anxiety rippling through him.

"What might Mr. Xylon's sudden visit signify?" Adam asked anyone in the room, but no one was confident enough to offer an opinion.

Adam, massaging his temples as if nails had been driven into his forehead, swiftly reached a decision.

"Please escort Mr. Xylon in and have him wait in the living room," he instructed his maid. "Inform him that I will only receive him after I have finished dressing."

Adam's seemingly innocuous procrastination masked a deeper truth. Since dawn's first light, his attire had been meticulously groomed, a testament to his unwavering commitment. Accomp
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