Chapter 363

Sebastian Valdemar's hand hovered midair, fingers trembling slightly.

His gaze locked with Olivia Valdemar's eyes, brimming with concern. Words formed then dissolved on his lips, ending in a soft sigh.

"I'm fine now."

Olivia's eyes darted between her brother and Evelyn Roland. A realization dawned. She took half a step back, her heel scraping the carpet.

"I seem to be interrupting."

Evelyn caught her sleeve. "Don't go, Olivia."

Sebastian stood by the window, sunlight casting shadows across his chiseled profile. A rare smile touched his lips—one reserved only for family.

Olivia's eyes instantly reddened. She remembered past years when her brother would curl alone in darkness on this date. Now, the storm in his eyes had nearly cleared.

"Evelyn..." Her voice cracked.

Evelyn squirmed under the intense gaze, sipping her tea to avoid eye contact.

Olivia smoothly changed the subject to trivial matters. As she left, she flashed Evelyn a discreet thumbs-up.

The click of the door brought silence. Sebastian adjusted his wristwatch, the interrupted confession stuck like a fishbone in his throat.

Night fell quietly on July fifth.

Meanwhile, the sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the Valrose family villa.

"Outrageous!" Owen Valrose hurled his briefcase onto the sofa.

Lydia Valrose's hands trembled around the fruit tray. "What now?"

"Valdemar Group snatched the East District land!" Owen yanked his tie loose. "The contract was supposed to sign today..."

Lydia's eyes gleamed. "Get Isabella involved. She's the Langley family's golden girl now."

Owen stopped pacing. A calculating glint surfaced in his murky eyes.

"We visit the Rolands tomorrow."

At dawn, Owen paced outside Blenheim Palace's gates. The security camera's unblinking lens tracked him while guards watched like he was a convict.

"That wretched girl..." He redialed the unanswered call for the twentieth time.

Meanwhile, Isabella Langley lounged in a nest of goose-down blankets. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, dappling her delicate collarbone.

"Miss, your bird's nest soup is ready."

She stretched, silk nightgown slipping off one shoulder. "Where are Mother and Father?"

"At the office since dawn." A maid drew the curtains. "Young Master Alexander mentioned taking you to the fashion show tonight."

Isabella's bare feet sank into wool carpet. Suddenly remembering, she checked her silenced phone. Twenty-three missed calls glowed on the screen.