460 Zoe paced nervously in the cramped room she’d rented under a fake name, her phone trembling in her hand. She had thought about this call for hours, rehearsing every possible way it could go wrong. James had always been loyal to Darwin and his family, but now she was counting on his sense of dut
461 Zoe sat on the edge of the worn-out bed, her fingers clenching the phone so tightly it felt like it might shatter. Her chest rose and fell with shaky breaths as she stared out the rain-slicked window. James had agreed to help her—for now—but his tone left no room for doubt. If she stepped out
462 The car's headlights cut through the darkness as they approached a sprawling estate on the outskirts of the city. Zoe’s hands trembled in her lap, her nerves wound so tightly she thought she might snap. She recognized the place immediately—one of Darwin family’s safehouses. Logan, sitting bes
463 Zoe exhaled shakily, a flicker of relief washing over her. But it was short-lived. She hesitated, then asked softly, “How is Darwin doing? Is he… okay?” James’s head snapped up, his expression hardening into pure disdain. “Don’t you dare ask that.” His voice was low, venomous. Zoe froze,
464 James glanced at Logan, his lips tightening in a thin line as Logan hit the dial button to call Lady Margaret Wettin. The phone buzzed for a moment before a sharp, authoritative voice answered. “James, what is it?” Lady Margaret’s tone carried a distinct edge, the kind that demanded immediate
465 Lady Margaret stormed into the hospital, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor as her face twisted with worry. She had not slept, not eaten, consumed by the anxiety gnawing at her. Darwin’s condition still hung in the balance, and she couldn’t bear it. The moment she reached h
466 Margaret stepped into the elevator, feeling the familiar weight of control slipping back over her as the doors closed with a soft chime. Her mind raced, but she forced herself to focus. She needed a clear head if she was going to fix this—whatever it took. The sharp scent of antiseptic fille
467 Margaret’s phone buzzed again, jolting her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, expecting another urgent update from Whitaker or Maelstrom. But when her eyes landed on the name flashing across the screen, her entire body stiffened. Julius Wettin. Her nephew. Her wicked nephew.