Chapter 429: Secret Rendezvous
The black sedan pulled away from the hotel hosting the gala, its interior wrapped in silence save for the faint hum of the air conditioning vents.
Emily leaned back against the seat, removing her mask. The icy composure in her eyes faded, replaced by a lingering ache and disorientation she couldn't shake.
Charles's image was seared into her mind, impossible to erase.
His burning gaze from beyond the dance floor, his frail yet stubbornly upright posture, the overwhelming longing in his eyes—all of it hammered relentlessly against her defenses, chipping away at the carefully maintained calm she'd fought so hard to preserve.
"Ms. Natasha, there's a car tailing us. It's been following for three blocks now." Fiona's hands remained steady on the wheel, her sharp eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.
Her observational skills were razor-keen. She'd noticed the tail the moment they'd left the hotel parking lot but hadn't mentioned it immediately.
A flicker of knowing crossed Emily's eyes, accompanied by a trace of panic she couldn't quite suppress.
No one but Charles would dare. No one else had the audacity—or the resources.
She said nothing, simply closing her eyes as internal conflict churned within her. She should order Fiona to lose the tail. She knew that. But deep down, a voice screamed at her to stop, to let him catch up, to see him one more time.
Just then, Fiona's phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, her brow furrowing slightly before accepting the call with cool detachment. "What is it?"
Urgent reporting crackled through the line, the voice anxious. Something about a situation with Campbell family loyalists requiring her immediate attention.
Fiona's expression darkened slightly. She ended the call and turned toward Emily in the back seat. "Ms. Natasha, there's a situation with the Campbell loyalists. I need to handle it immediately. Half an hour at most."
Emily raised her gaze to meet Fiona's, complex emotions flickering in her eyes.
The timing was too convenient. Far too convenient not to suspect Charles's hand behind it.
Fiona was perceptive enough to read Emily's thoughts instantly, guessing at the puppet master orchestrating this "emergency." She fell silent for a moment before adding quietly, "Ms. Natasha, you've known Mr. Windsor for some time, haven't you? Don't worry—after I leave, I'll park the car in that quiet alley up ahead. I've already positioned people around the perimeter. You'll be completely safe. If you don't want to see him, I'll lose the tail right now and take you straight back to the safe house."
Emily remained silent for a long while before slowly shaking her head, her voice carrying a note of surrender. "No need. Go handle the situation. Be careful and come back as soon as you can."
She didn't say it explicitly, but she'd already given tacit permission for Charles to approach.
Fiona asked no further questions, simply nodding. "Understood. I'll be back within thirty minutes."
Before exiting the vehicle, Fiona carefully surveyed the surroundings, confirming no abnormalities before issuing a final warning. "Ms. Natasha, security personnel are positioned throughout the area. Don't open the door for anyone—unless it's me."
Emily murmured a soft acknowledgment, her gaze drifting to the window, her expression complicated.
Fiona studied her for a long moment, then turned and strode quickly away, her silhouette soon swallowed by the night. She wasn't actually heading to the Campbell loyalists—that was merely a fabricated emergency Charles had arranged through intermediaries. She'd seen through it immediately but chose to play along, because she understood that deep down, Emily wanted to see him too, even if she couldn't bring herself to admit it.
Just beyond the alley entrance, a tall figure blocked Fiona's path—Nathan.
Though not a professional assassin, Nathan had emerged from the same brutal training camps through real combat and bloodshed, making him a formidable operative in his own right. He could clearly read that Fiona harbored no killing intent at the moment. In fact, the female operative seemed almost... content. Her mood was remarkably calm.
Nathan chose not to escalate tensions, instead extending his right hand toward Fiona. "Ms. Hayes, thank you for your cooperation. Mr. Windsor and Ms. Natasha have important matters to discuss. We had no choice but to resort to this stratagem. Please accept our apologies."
A flash of coldness crossed Fiona's eyes, and the peaceful aura surrounding her vanished in an instant. She ignored his outstretched hand entirely. "Oh? Mr. Windsor wants a meeting, so Ms. Natasha is obligated to comply? This is Seraphim, in case you've forgotten. Does Charles really believe he can control everything here?"
Her frame tensed slightly, fingertips poised for immediate action. Though she knew she wouldn't strike without Emily's explicit orders, she was fully prepared.
Still, this man's presumption rankled her.
Nathan showed no offense. Instead, he found himself staring at Fiona's face in a daze—her features and bearing bore a seventy-percent resemblance to Kate, and that resilience beneath the cool exterior was uncannily similar.
Looking at this face, his heart filled with indescribable bitterness and hesitation. Attacking her was out of the question. He couldn't even raise his voice to reprimand her.
"Ms. Hayes, I mean no harm." Nathan's voice softened considerably, his tone gentling. "I'm only asking for ten minutes. Just ten minutes. He won't hurt Ms. Natasha. He simply has some things he needs to say to her." He knew his skills were already inferior to Fiona's, and with this face that so resembled Kate staring back at him, his heart was filled with nothing but reluctance. He had no desire whatsoever to fight her.
Fiona's brow furrowed, surprise flickering briefly in her eyes.
She could clearly sense the shift in Nathan's demeanor. Her combat abilities were formidable—more than sufficient to handle Nathan—and seeing him in this state, a barely perceptible sneer of contempt crossed her features. Her tone remained glacial. "You're no match for me. Don't waste your effort."
Nathan smiled bitterly, offering no rebuttal. His voice turned pleading. "I know I can't beat you, but I'm only asking you to wait a few more minutes. Mr. Windsor... his health is failing. He desperately wants to see Ms. Natasha again."