Theodore Valentine sat in his office with a dark expression.

The coffee on his desk had long gone cold.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped his phone.

Ethan Sullivan's actions today were a direct slap to his face.

The Valentines and Sullivans had maintained close ties for generations.

Even Victor Sullivan, that old fox, treated him with deference.

Yet Ethan, a mere junior, dared to confront him like this.

Theodore slammed his fist on the desk.

He dialed Victoria Windsor's number.

"Did you orchestrate what happened in Dorset Village?"

A noticeable pause came from the other end.

"What Dorset Village? I don't know what you're talking about."

Theodore sneered. "Stop playing dumb. Isabella is still in detention!"

Victoria's voice trembled. "I... I really don't know—"

"Enough!" Theodore cut her off sharply. "Ethan came to my office!"

Victoria finally cracked. "I... I hired professionals..."

"Professionals?" Theodore mocked. "Then how did Ethan trace it back?"

"He has no evidence!" Victoria suddenly raised her voice. "He's bluffing!"

Theodore took a deep breath. "You'd better clean up your mess."

After hanging up, he massaged his temples wearily.

At the same moment...

Ethan sat in his car, long fingers tapping the steering wheel.

"How long will she be detained?"

His assistant answered respectfully, "Two weeks at most."

Ethan's lips curved slightly. "Too lenient."

He turned to gaze out the window, eyes icy.

"Send someone to pay Victoria a visit."

The assistant hesitated. "You're certain it's her?"

"Who else would it be?" Ethan said coolly. "Make it look like a real mugging."

"Understood."

Three days later...

Victoria appeared furtively at a westside apartment complex.

She had dressed carefully—

A rose-red trench coat, oversized sunglasses, hair cascading over her shoulders.

After ensuring no one followed, she hurried into the elevator.

Apartment 3303.

Her secret hideaway.

The living room stood empty except for a low table.

She reapplied her lipstick and blew a kiss at the mirror.

The doorbell rang.

A masked man stood outside.

He embraced her urgently upon entering.

"Everything arranged?" Victoria asked coyly.

The man removed his mask, revealing a handsome face. "All taken care of."

"When will Isabella be released?" she pressed.

He pinched her waist. "Patience..."

They tangled toward the floor-to-ceiling window.

The sheer curtains tore down violently.

Forty minutes later...

Victoria lay sprawled on the carpet, cheeks flushed.

"You devil..." she purred. "Better than that old man of mine."

The man smirked. "Naturally."

They lingered in each other's arms a while longer.

Victoria left well past midnight.

Humming, she drove to a spa.

By the time her treatment ended, it was nearly eleven.

Riverside Drive lay nearly deserted.

Suddenly, a van swerved in front of her.

Screeching brakes shattered the night's silence.