Chapter Thirty-One

Rome, Italy

In the top-floor office, the dim, amber light cast long shadows, making the room somewhat obscure. Behind the desk, a slender figure sat quietly, hands resting on the surface, delicate fingers gently stroking as a faint smile played at the corners of her lips.

A tall, imposing silhouette stood respectfully before the desk, head lowered in deference. Unable to restrain his curiosity at the prolonged silence, he glanced up.

She sat there serenely, a trace of violet light flickering between her fingers. Her smile remained as her gaze rested on what she held—a violet brooch, glimmering softly.

“Tell Cory that the collaboration with Blue Tear can be put on the agenda. However—” she paused, “tell them we want to sign the contract with their president, not their vice president.”

“Yes, madam.” The shadow withdrew silently, and the smile on the woman’s lips deepened.

Blue Tear Hotel, China

In the presidential suite, Ying Yue sat quietly by the window, her hands gently caressing a box adorned with intricate patterns. Her eyes were fixed upon it—this was the box Arthur had left behind last time.

Her slender fingers traced the ornate designs as a flicker of confusion crossed her gaze. Why did this box seem so familiar? Each time she touched it, a strange sensation stirred within her, yet when she searched her memory, she found nothing but blankness, as if a part of her past had been erased.

What was happening?

Her brow furrowed, her eyes filled with doubt as she gazed at the mysterious box in her hands.

Knock, knock—

“Come in.” Ying Yue carefully placed the box in a drawer and locked it.

Xiahou Yu entered just in time to see Ying Yue cautiously locking away the intricately patterned box. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the designs, which struck a chord of familiarity within him. His brow knit as a flash of memory darted through his mind—It was that box!

How did it end up with Ying Yue?

“Yu, what’s wrong?” Ying Yue looked at Xiahou Yu’s expression, puzzled.

Masking his surprise, he met her gaze, his composure quickly restored.

“Ying Yue, the Italian company Asciugandosilacrime wants to sign a contract with us to jointly develop Silis Island.” As he spoke, his brow furrowed once more.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t that good news?”

“It is, but they insist that you personally sign the contract.”

Ying Yue raised an eyebrow. “It must be me?”

“Yes,” Xiahou Yu replied, sounding rather frustrated.

Ying Yue’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Then let’s go and see what awaits us. Who knows, there might be a pleasant surprise.”

Xiahou Yu was speechless—though it could just as easily be a shock.

In a secluded villa, heavy curtains sealed away all light from a small, dark room. On a little round table by the window, a single white candle flickered, its weak flame the only illumination.

Not far from the candle, a slender figure reclined against the headboard of a bed. A pale, delicate hand, nails painted a vivid red, held a small, exquisite phone.

“Aren’t you always searching for John Rivers’ lovely young widow?” The voice was languid, dripping with self-assurance.

“And how would you know?” The other voice was equally nonchalant, tinged with disbelief. “He hid her well—how could you possibly know?” The words were followed by a derisive laugh.

“The day after tomorrow, in Rome, Italy. She’ll appear.”

“You really know?” The breath on the other end quickened, the once-relaxed posture now straightened.

A soft laugh slipped from crimson lips, full of scorn and malice. “Believe it or not, it’s up to you.”

There was a pause, then the other person leaned back again, voice casual. “All right, name your price.”

“As expected, you’re straightforward. My terms are simple—I want her gone.” The words dripped with venom.

“That may not be possible,” came the cold reply. “I can only guarantee she’ll disappear from your world. Beyond that, it’s none of your concern.”

The hand with the scarlet nails gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles whitened, her face contorting in anger.

If not for fear of being implicated herself, would she ever stoop to beg like this?

She bit her lip, then flashed a seductive smile. “Deal.”

She ended the call, her face twisting into a savage grin. This time, you will never return.