CHAPTER 111: CHAPTER 111: TRACKED HER DOWN

The security personnel heard the noise and rushed inside, finding only a broken cup. After cleaning up, they left.

The computer on the table chimed softly. The email automatically popped up, with an encrypted email lying there quietly.

Sender: Bluebird Iris.

Stella Grant walked over and opened the email.

The content was brief and to the point: Aiden Fordham arrived at Bluebird Headquarters last night, lingering in your office for half the night before leaving at dawn.

Additionally, Andy Lockwood arrived at the Nation A branch yesterday; everything went smoothly.

Stella Grant lightly tapped her fingertips on the keyboard and replied with one word: Okay.

Then she closed the email.

In the presidential suite of a six-star hotel in F-Country, Aiden Fordham’s private computer screen suddenly lit up, a very small notification box appearing silently.

Almost instantly capturing that signal, the man who had been resting with his eyes closed against the chair back suddenly opened his eyes, revealing sharp clarity.

Long fingers flew across the custom keyboard, moving so fast they nearly left afterimages, tracking an IP address that had briefly exchanged data with Iris Summers.

The only sound in the air was the urgent yet rhythmic tapping on the keyboard.

A few seconds later, IP location succeeded.

Aiden Fordham stared at the red dot blinking on the screen, unable to suppress the slight upward arc of his mouth.

Ha.

Finally caught it. He felt the blood in his whole body heat up again, every cell clamoring with excitement.

He’s alive again!

...

Noon, the atmosphere in the Sterling Family’s dining room was a bit peculiar.

Alongside the long dining table, Damian Hawthorne and the Hawthorne Matriarch sat shoulder to shoulder, opposite the head of the Sterling Family.

Today’s meal was supposedly Grandma Hawthorne’s special visit to thank Stella Grant for saving lives.

Yet, things never go as planned.

Aisha Grant explained apologetically: "It’s unfortunate, Stella... she went on a trip."

"A trip?" The Hawthorne Matriarch raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Yes, she said she wanted to travel the world; she probably won’t return anytime soon." Aisha added, bracing herself.

The Hawthorne Matriarch’s gaze swept around the dining table, finally landing on a quiet little girl.

The girl’s features were exquisite, skin fair—an absolute beauty in the making.

"Who is she?" The Matriarch’s voice was low yet carried an undeniable inquiry.

Aisha quickly responded with a smile: "Oh, this is Claire, my newly adopted goddaughter."

She tugged on Claire Norton’s sleeve, signaling her to greet.

The Hawthorne Matriarch nodded silently.

This girl, truly radiant, her appearance and figure couldn’t be faulted; if she became the Hawthorne family’s granddaughter-in-law, it would be... absolutely splendid.

The Matriarch’s silent little calculations clattered loudly.

What kind of person is Vivi Sterling?

Eagle-eyed!

She understood the Matriarch’s thoughts at a glance. She gently nudged Claire Norton beside her, whispered with a mischievous smile in her tone: "Claire, quickly, greet Grandma Hawthorne."

Claire Norton’s cheeks flushed a bit, nervously raising her hand, gesturing a few signs to the Hawthorne Matriarch, letting out a light "ah...ah..." sound.

She meant to say: Hello, Matriarch.

The Matriarch’s smile froze instantly, the previous warmth in her eyes swiftly cooled, sinking down.

"This child... can’t speak?" Her tone was unmistakably disappointed; the atmosphere at the dining table dropped straight to freezing point.

Damian Hawthorne immediately sensed his grandmother’s mood shift and hurriedly chimed in to smooth things over: "Grandma, Claire is greeting you."

He looked warmly at Claire Norton, trying to ease her embarrassment.

Vivi Sterling wouldn’t take it, giving Damian Hawthorne a big, dramatic eye-roll.

"Pssh, Damian, you’re still green when it comes to sign language translating!"

She cleared her throat, seriously "translating" to the Matriarch: "Grandma Hawthorne, Claire says the braised pork’s taste is perfect; you and Eldest Master Hawthorne should eat more, don’t be polite!"

"Pfft—"

Claire Norton almost spat out a mouthful of water, her face instantly turning bright red.

She frantically shook her head, hands gesturing wildly: No, that’s not it! That’s not it!

Vivi Sterling mischievously blinked, continuing her "professional translation": "Oh my, Claire now says the braised pork alone isn’t enough for her; it’s too delicious! Perhaps you both should try the nearby rose chicken leg, there’s more meat, don’t fight her for the braised pork!"

Claire Norton was so anxious her eyes turned red, promptly reaching out to cover Vivi Sterling’s chattering mouth.

So embarrassing! How will she face people in the future!

The young girl’s cheeks were as red as ripe apples, even the tips of her ears burned.

Damian Hawthorne couldn’t help but laugh softly at Claire Norton’s shy and anxious expression, wishing to find a hole to hide in.

This Vivi Sterling, such a live wire, bullying people like an art form.

His gaze fell on Claire Norton’s vexed yet helpless little face, finding it amusing and somewhat... inexplicably interesting.

...

Aiden Fordham’s gaze was deep as he looked at the map of Rookstone. A day ago, the town’s sea passages had been sealed, forbidding unknown outsiders and closing the tourist routes, strictly monitored by official authority.

This further confirmed Aiden Fordham’s suspicion that Stella Grant was inside, his excitement causing his body to tremble slightly.

But the town was surrounded by sea on three sides; a helicopter would be too conspicuous, boats couldn’t pass, the extreme sports area to the west, bungee jumping had stopped, the mountain behind was a cliff with spotlights, climbing was unrealistic.

"I remember, Rookstone’s mayor seems to be that old fellow, Henry."

Aiden Fordham suddenly said, twirling a lighter a few times between his slender fingers.

"Correct! By the way, in a few days it will be Rookstone’s food festival, there will be a grand celebration then, for the entire town! Surely there will be certain invited guests entering the town, it will be a good opportunity."

Keegan Lindsey’s words woke the dreamer; it was indeed a great opportunity.

"Get in touch with Henry, I want to enter the town today!"

He couldn’t wait a moment longer!

"Alright, I’ll prepare the jet first." Keegan knew the boss was anxious, turned and asked, "Who should we bring this time?"

"Bring Seraphina." Remembering Andy Lockwood’s words, he knew she must be trapped in a dangerous situation, and he couldn’t relax at all.

"Deliver those Chris Family items to Berry; he knows what to do."

Over the years, he had collected a lot of dirt on the Chris Family; since they openly tried to seize Stella Grant last time, he was already poised to act. A family too large or too ostentatious is bound for a bad end.

"Understood!" Keegan nodded.

After nightfall, the temperature in Rookstone was noticeably low; it was now late autumn, and the night wind carried a chill, the window curtains danced as if in a ballet, swaying back and forth.

Moonlight spilled onto the windowsill freely. A shadow moved swiftly like a cat, leaping onto the second-floor balcony of the villa in no time.

Familiar with the place, he avoided all surveillance cameras with agility that defied belief.

Not a soul was startled, not even a dog barked.

Inside the bedroom, a small night lamp emitted a dim yellow glow.

On the large bed, a woman slept deeply, her breathing even, long lashes casting a small shadow beneath her eyes, appearing particularly obedient.

The man approached step by step, his footsteps nearly inaudible, his gaze flickered, then he drew a knife from his waist, the sharp blade glinting coldly...