CHAPTER 431: SECOND NEWS

Sandro caught sight of Victoria lingering on the porch. She was backing him, facing the gates, her shoulders slumped, her lilac-colored dress trailing slightly as though she had nowhere else to go.

His brows drew together. Won’t this woman give up? It was late—too late for anyone who wasn’t family to be hovering in the mansion. What was her plan?

"What are you still doing here at this hour, Victoria?" His voice cut through the silence, even but firm.

Victoria turned, her face a portrait of fragile sorrow. She pressed her fingers to the corner of her eye, forcing out tears that glistened under the porch’s bright light. Her lips trembled as she whispered, "My fiancé left me. His family too. They won’t let go of some misconceptions."

Sandro’s jaw tightened. Why wouldn’t Cedric? he thought grimly. When she spends more energy dangling herself around Ewan than nurturing her own relationship. It would have been suspicious if the former hadn’t noticed the play.

He exhaled slowly, trying to rein in his impatience. "That’s unfortunate. But you can’t stay here, Victoria. Book a hotel for the night."

"I—" she faltered, clutching at her handbag as if it were her last lifeline. "I don’t have anywhere else to go. Everything feels so heavy. Please, Sandro... just tonight."

Her doe-like eyes sought his mercy, but he’d seen the act one too many times. First Fiona, and then her.

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out his phone, transferred her a generous sum, and showed the digital receipt to her. "There. Enough for a room and more. Now go."

Victoria blinked at the notification on her phone, feigning surprise, then bit her lip. "But... Ewan. I just want to see him, to talk—"

Sandro’s face hardened. "He’s not available. Don’t wait up."

Displeasure flashed across her features, her carefully constructed façade slipping for the briefest second. She masked it with a sad nod, however, then turned away, dragging her steps like a rejected heroine from a cheap play.

When Sandro returned to the living room, the atmosphere was drawn on a string, waiting for him. Their trained gazes on him, a prime indicator of their curiosity.

It was Aiden who straightened and asked, "What was that about?"

Sandro waved a hand, dropping onto the armchair with a scoff. "Victoria, crying about her fiancé leaving her. Pretending she had nowhere to go. I sent her money and told her to leave. She wanted Ewan, of course."

A chorus of scoffs and mutters rippled around the room. Aiden smirked knowingly, while Susan shook her head with open disdain.

Athena, tucked beside her grandfather, pressed her lips together. So, even here, she was shamelessly asking for him. Why does it always circle back to Ewan?

The thought clawed at her, though she tried to hide it behind a neutral expression. Maybe she should inform Antonio of this latest update so he would stop disturbing her.

Ewan himself said nothing, but his fingers flexed against his knee. Victoria again. He hated how her name still managed to pierce through every layer of peace he tried to hold. Good riddance if her fiancé left her. She was never meant to stay at his office after all.

The room stayed hushed as Old Mr. Thorne’s cane tapped against the polished floor. His sharp eyes moved from face to face before landing on the group of agents yet standing by the second doorway, bringing everyone to focus.

His voice, though calm, carried weight. "Tell me—how did the gang infiltrate my estate?"

The words dropped like a stone in water, rippling tension through every corner of the room.

The agents exchanged uneasy glances, shifting on their feet. One of them cleared his throat, speaking with measured calm. "Sir, we have no idea how they slipped in. We’ve maintained all protocols."

Another chimed in, his voice defensive. "We’ve doubled checks at the gates, screened every vendor, reviewed the cameras—there was no breach we could trace."

Mr. Thorne leaned back slightly, his cane resting against his knee. His silence was worse than anger, and the agents began fidgeting under the weight of it.

Susan, arms folded across her chest, tilted her head. "Is any of you missing?"

The men exchanged glances again. At first, all shook their heads in unison. But hesitation crept into one man’s face. He shifted uncomfortably before muttering, "There... there is one. A guard named Farrell. He hasn’t reported since the afternoon shift."

The silence that followed was brutal.

Old Mr. Thorne’s eyes narrowed. "And why am I hearing about this now?"

The chief of estate security stepped forward, sweat beading on his forehead. His voice wavered. "Sir, I... I was going to file the report by morning. Farrell had been with us for a year. His record was clean. I didn’t think—"

"You didn’t think," Old Mr. Thorne interrupted, his tone sharp as a blade. "While a mole walks freely in my estate, feeding enemies information?" His cane struck the floor with a thud that echoed.

The chief’s shoulders hunched, his face pale with the fear of losing his position.

"You’ve found your mole," He continued, voice laced with cold authority. "Now track him. Locate him. Immediately. Double security at every gate, every corridor. Employ more men, test them, and this time—make sure they are loyal."

"Yes, sir," the chief stammered, bowing before signaling his men. They hurried out, leaving the room weighted with suspicion and unease.

Just then, Athena’s phone vibrated on the table. She reached for it, frowning at the name glowing across the screen. Eric.

Did something happen?

She picked up, her voice steady. "Eric?"

On the other end, Eric’s tone was grim, clipped. "Athena, you need to know—the Black Cells have been broken into. I think Kael had been onto something..."

A murmur swept through the room as Athena’s back straightened. She put the call on loudspeaker, her gaze sweeping the people around her. "Repeat that."

"They breached through an inside leak," Eric said. "We confirmed it—someone working within the facility sold us out. Several of the high-profile detainees are gone. Dangerous ones." His voice dipped lower. "This wasn’t random. It was timed. Coordinated."

The silence in the room thickened.

Athena’s chest tightened as her mind raced. So this is why Kael had mentioned that the celebration was nothing but a distraction.

She studied each face in the room. There was so much work to be done, regarding the escape of criminals from the prison, a lot of work even for the state.

She rubbed her face with her free hand, feeling despondent.

Where would they start tracking the cold blooded criminals from?