Asher’s expression changed. And so did Eve’s and Emmett’s.
The furrow between their brows deepened.
"How’s that possible?" Eve muttered under her breath.
"No way. Impossible," Emmett also shook his head. But then, suddenly, his eyes brimmed with determination before he asked cautiously, "If it’s true, then when are we going to end him for good?"
The moment he said that, the air turned completely silent.
Ford and Asher turned to glare at him, while Eve immediately smacked the back of his head.
"Do you wish to be dead?"
Emmett was immediately thrown off. Staggering a few steps forward from the momentum, he held the back of his head and turned around to look at Eve, his gaze carrying a clear sense of grievance, as though he was the one being wronged.
"What? Weren’t we supposed to do that before?" he asked. Then, frowning, he continued, "Why are you slapping me? I said exactly what we failed to do before. Since we have another chance, shouldn’t we try again and make sure we succeed this time?"
Eve pinched the space between her brows.
She didn’t have the strength to argue with him.
So instead, she turned to Ford and asked, "Is that really true?"
Ford paused for a second.
His expression turned conflicted for a moment before he finally shrugged. "I’m not entirely sure, but given what The Lady experienced today, this has the highest possibility. She was responding to a pull that came from sharing a deep blood bond with someone."
He paused before adding, "And if it’s not Little Young Miss, then it can only be from Little Young Master."
Ford wasn’t entirely certain, but he believed he wasn’t misinterpreting it.
After all, they had never found Little Young Master back then.
And if he had truly survived ...
Then there was only one explanation for the strange reaction Adelyn had experienced tonight.
While Eve was still lost in thought, Asher suddenly turned around, clearly ready to leave.
His movement immediately caught everyone’s attention.
Emmett quickly asked, "Where are you going all of a sudden?"
Asher didn’t answer him.
With another step, he was about to disappear into the air when Eve, in one swift movement, reached out and caught his hand.
When he turned to look at her, she asked, her brows drawn tight, "Where are you going, Asher??"
"To look for him," he replied, already ready to pry her hand away from his.
Eve wouldn’t have stopped him either.
Not when they had spent years wondering whether Little Young Master had truly survived.
But then—
Ford spoke up.
"There’s no need for that."
Asher paused and looked back at him.
Eve turned to Ford as well.
"We aren’t going to look for him?" she asked, her brows furrowing once again.
Ford’s expression turned serious. But he shook his head.
"Boss doesn’t want us to go looking for him. Not for now, at least."
That left everyone confused.
Asher’s fingers curled tightly into fists.
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the urge to leave and search for the child was almost visible in his eyes.
However, he didn’t turn to leave again.
The rest of the night continued quietly.
So quiet and serene that one could hear the soft murmuring of garden insects drifting through the air.
At Scott Villa—
Clara should have been resting under the peaceful effect of the night.
Yet she was wide awake.
Not even a trace of drowsiness had touched her.
Sitting on the bed against the headboard, she was tucked beneath the covers, with one hand resting on the switch of her bedside table lamp.
As though following a perfect rhythm, she repeatedly switched the light on and off.
Click.
Darkness.
Click.
Light.
There was no other noise in the room except for those soft clicks.
But then—
A gentle ringtone suddenly tore through the silence, snapping Clara’s attention towards her phone.
She glanced briefly at the screen —brief enough to catch only one name.
Maria.
Her hand moved to pick up the phone almost immediately, as though she had been waiting for that call all this while.
All this time.
"Hello," she spoke into the phone.
Maria immediately responded, "Ms. Scott, I have arranged what you asked for." She paused briefly before adding, "Tomorrow, at eleven a.m."
"Good job," Clara said, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Don’t be late tomorrow, then."
With that, she hung up the phone and set it aside.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
If Liam had paved a smooth-sailing route for Adelyn, then she would make sure Adelyn faced all sorts of turbulence along the way.
There would be no way she would let Adelyn have anything that belonged to her in peace.
Not her family.
Not her place.
Not even the life she had managed to build after returning.
And definitely not the role that should have belonged to her.
If Clara couldn’t have everything she believed should have been hers, then Adelyn certainly wouldn’t get to enjoy hers either.
At this moment—
A sudden click from her bedroom door caught her off guard.
Her eyes immediately turned towards it, only to see the door being pushed open.
Her brows furrowed at the uninvited intrusion.
But the very next second, her expression steadied back into its usual softness.
"Clara."
Charlotte’s voice came from the doorway, soft and slightly concerned.
"Dear, why aren’t you sleeping? Is something bothering you?"
She stepped further inside, her gaze landing on her daughter sitting on the bed, looking not the least bit sleepy.
"You have always been the one to sleep on time. Then why are you still awake today?"
Clara followed her with her eyes before casually shaking her head.
"It’s nothing, Mom. I was just scrolling through my feed. But I’m done now. I will be heading to sleep."
Charlotte gaze turned deep at her.
For a second, it almost looked as though she knew her daughter was lying to her.
Yet ... in the next moment, her expression softened once again.
She walked closer to her bed and reached out to gently caress Clara’s hair.
"Don’t worry about things too much. You have got us on your side. Your family. We won’t let you get bullied."
Clara smiled and nodded.
"I have already talked to your father. He said he’d be making sure of it himself. And to make sure people know your identity better, he’ll be back soon."
At that, Clara’s expression changed. Her eyes widened ever so slightly. She looked at her mother as though needing to confirm that she hadn’t misunderstood.
"Dad is coming back?"