"How is she now?" Jay asked softly, stepping into the room.
Blue was perched silently on the edge of the bed, her small hand resting near Sara's, her wide eyes fixated on the woman who still hadn't woken up. Concern was etched into her face—her lip trembled just slightly.
The maid turned from the bedside with a sigh, her expression apologetic. "No change. The doctor said she should wake up soon, but… there's still no response."
Jay pressed his lips together, nodding grimly. He approached the bed but kept his voice gentle. "Miss, how about you go back home for now? Miss Sara will be just fine by tomorrow, I'm sure."
Blue didn't move. Instead, she turned her head slowly, her tear-filled eyes meeting his.
"Will she die?" she whispered.
Jay blinked, taken aback by the question. "No, of course not," he said quickly, crouching beside her. "She's just very tired right now. She needs some rest, just like you do. Tomorrow she'll be up and asking why we made such a fuss."
Blue looked down again, her hand clenching gently into the fabric of Sara's shirt. She didn't want to leave. That was clear. But eventually, with a quiet, reluctant nod, she slid off the bed.
Jay led her toward the door, then turned back to the maid. "Please call me the moment she wakes up."
"I will," the maid replied.
As Blue was sent away, Jay walked toward Vladmir's room. When he stepped inside, he found the old man sitting in his chair, his chest rising heavily with each breath, a brooding shadow cast across his face.
"She's not awake yet," Jay reported. "But the doctor says she should come to soon."
Vladmir's face remained stone. His eyes shut slowly, as if drawing in his frustration, containing it within. Then came the order—calm, but firm.
"Make sure she doesn't try to leave the job."
Jay's brows lifted faintly. "She won't… not yet, anyway. She signed the contract. Legally, she has to work for us for at least a year before she can terminate it."
Still, he couldn't shake off the question forming in his mind. Sara wasn't anyone particularly important. Not strikingly beautiful, not socially powerful. So why did Vladmir care?
"But… if she does leave, what does it really matter?" Jay asked.
Vladmir didn't answer immediately.
Before the silence could stretch too long, Jay's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen—and his eyes narrowed.
"The check's been cashed," he announced, voice low. "Twenty million. Gone."
Vladmir's lip curled, a cold smirk forming.
"Because of this," he said, gesturing toward Jay's phone. "Rose and James… they'll keep leeching off us as long as they have a legal claim over Blue."
Jay's jaw clenched. "Are you… are you planning something?"
"Not yet," Vladmir murmured. "But I won't let them bleed us dry. Not when there are ways to take control." His eyes narrowed with something deeper—curiosity, calculation. "And besides… that woman. She's stirred something. I won't let her go until I get my answers."
Jay nodded reluctantly, though his unease didn't settle. He wasn't sure what his boss was digging for—but he knew this wasn't just about some swiming classes anymore just not very sure what was going on in his cunning boss's mind.
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Augustine's fingers pressed against his forehead, his other hand resting heavily on the edge of the car door. The engine hummed beneath them, but inside the vehicle, the air felt jagged, tight with silence and barely restrained rage. His breath came in shallow bursts, and when he finally spoke, it was through clenched teeth.
"When were you planning to tell me," he growled, "that she worked at my father's estate?"
His voice was dark—quiet, but deadly. Each word packed like a coiled whip. In the driver's seat, Flinn was sweating, his knuckles bone-white against the steering wheel.
"I… I didn't know, Boss," he muttered. His voice cracked under the pressure.
Augustine's head snapped toward him, eyes like lit coals. "Do I look like I'm in the mood to laugh at your jokes?" he spat. "I want that woman to suffer, and now she's under his roof—his protection?! Does that make any sense to you?!"
He slammed his hand against the window in a flash of uncontained anger. Flinn flinched but said nothing, tightening his grip on the wheel.
"Boss… maybe you should just let it go this time," Flinn offered weakly after a beat. "She doesn't seem like a bad person…"
A cold, humorless chuckle escaped Augustine's lips. He leaned forward just enough to catch Flinn's gaze in the rearview mirror.
"Not a bad person?" he repeated with venom. "What's your definition of a bad person then, Flinn?"
Flinn didn't answer. He couldn't.
"She vandalized my car. She tried to sell herself to me. She broke into my house—punched me in the damn face. Does that sound like someone harmless to you?"
Flinn swallowed hard. The Sara he had met didn't fit that description. None of it made sense.
"When… when did she do all that?" he asked quietly, genuinely confused.
Augustine didn't even blink. His jaw locked in place, voice lowered into something colder than hate.
"I don't care what lies she's feeding everyone. I'll find a way to make her life hell. Just you wait."Something cold and cunning began to stir behind his eyes. Augustine wasn't the kind of man who let wounds scab over without retaliation—especially not when his pride had been bruised. And that's exactly what she had done,