Chapter 493

"Especially... anyone with unrestricted access to the surveillance room."

Bianca's eyes lit up. "You mean—"

"Daring to mess with Sebastian Valdemar's territory?" Evelyn's laugh was icy. "Let's see who's got the guts."

She pulled out her phone and dialed.

"It's me. I need you to track someone..."

Château Blanc shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers, their refracted light dancing across the grand hall.

Evelyn Roland sat poised on the leather sofa, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. Bianca Savigny remained silent beside her, while Alexander Roland—usually carefree—knitted his brows in rare concern.

"Evelyn, involving Second Brother would expedite the investigation," Alexander murmured, his voice uncharacteristically grave.

His impromptu visit to the vineyard had coincided with witnessing his sister being framed. That reckless Galatea girl had truly overstepped.

Though Sebastian Valdemar bore the brunt of his ire.

"Second Brother's position makes it inappropriate," Evelyn countered, a sharp glint flashing in her obsidian eyes. "And you will not act rashly either, Alexander."

When he opened his mouth to protest, her silencing glare cut him short.

"I'll request assistance if needed," she stated with finality.

Alexander exhaled in defeat before shifting focus. "Scarlett Galatea is the prime suspect."

"The Galateas have deep political connections," Bianca cautioned softly.

Evelyn traced the edge of the coffee table, her lips curving slightly. "If the Galateas are indeed involved..." Her fingernail scraped the polished surface. "I have countermeasures prepared."

Alexander suddenly ruffled her hair, earning a dagger-like glare.

Meanwhile, darkness enveloped the Valdemar estate.

Moonlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, silhouetting a solitary figure. Sebastian sat slumped against the floor, an empty wine bottle beside him.

"Evelyn..." He tilted his head back, throat working as he drained another glass.

Crimson droplets escaped his lips, tracing a path down his collarbone like bloody tears. Mechanically, he refilled his glass, numb to the alcohol's burn.

After half the bottle vanished, Sebastian staggered upright. His blurred reflection reached for him in the window—and grasped only air.

"Evelyn?" His hoarse call dissolved into the night.

Dawn found him curled on the Persian rug, his pallid features gilded by morning light.

At Valdemar Group's headquarters, Theodore Ashcroft paced the executive floor.

With an international videoconference imminent, Sebastian's unprecedented radio silence sent alarm bells ringing. Fifteen unanswered calls later, Theodore's forehead gleamed with sweat. Yesterday's confrontation replayed in his mind, tightening the knot in his gut.

"Sir, answer your phone!" He stared at the dark screen, dread coiling tighter.