Chapter 58: What Are You Looking At? My Handsome Face?

The night was cold, winter's chill gnawing through bone.

Tyler had stood in the bitter wind outside the art building for three hours, his body numb but his heart pounding with anxiety.

His face was illuminated by the pale blue glow of his phone.

As his battery was nearly dead, he kept watching the surveillance footage and the photos Patrick had sent.

Each time, the images only grew colder against the winter night.

He saw what had happened that day.

Ellie was paralyzed, helplessly watching her grandmother slit her own throat, anguish etched on her face.

Blood spattered in sharp, jarring bursts.

Even in the grainy footage, her devastation was unmistakable—her eyes clouded with shock and despair.

But then, instead of freezing or breaking down, she turned and ran—no screams or cries; her steps were eerily steady, as if her instincts had taken over.

At the doorway, Jack grabbed her by the arm.

She struggled, then quickly slashed Jack's arm with something she'd kept hidden in her hand—a penknife.

In the end, she was dragged into the warehouse.

The warehouse—cramped and dim—lacked security cameras.

No one knows exactly what happened inside.

Only a few scenes were captured as Nora stormed in, clenching a belt menacingly.

Then, she was helped out, clutching her neck.

Then came the photos.

It showed a massive pile of discarded papers.

Page after page was nothing but copies of the "Family Code of Conduct."

How many times had Ellie been forced to copy it?

Flipping further back, there were past years' worth of Ellie's medical records—all physical injuries.

The evidence left him with so many questions:

How many times had Ellie been beaten?

Tyler's heart clenched.

How did she manage to make her way to RCA all on her own?

How did she become so strong?

"Invite the four members of the Ward family from Sunny City out to the open sea. Teach them a lesson for me. Remember, keep them alive."

The screen went black, snapping Tyler back to the cold night.

He stood in the wind for a moment longer, gathering himself, then turned and pushed open the door inside.

Work finished, Ellie gathered her paintbrushes and tucked them away.

She turned her head.

Before she could speak, Tyler pulled her into a fierce embrace, holding her as if trying to shield her from the world.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, closed his eyes, and breathed in unsteadily, clinging to her presence.

After a long time, he let go.

"Finished the painting?"

Ellie looked at him and nodded.

He raised his hand and smoothed out her collar. "Let's go home."

The drive home was silent, tension heavy and unspoken, filling the car.

Tyler reached over and pulled her hand toward him.

Ellie looked down at their clasped hands and paused for a moment.

He said flatly, "If you don't want to hold my hand, just pull away."

Ellie didn't say anything.

Back at the apartment, Ellie noticed a few extra items of men's clothing had appeared in the room.

He acted as if he were the host.

He plugged in his phone, walked over, and sat down by the bed, appearing completely at ease, his movements relaxed and unhurried.

Ellie paused, watching him.

Tyler met her gaze. "What are you looking at? How handsome I am?"

"I want to take a shower."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead. Do you want me to help you?"

Ellie took a step back.

"No, thanks." She paused. "I mean, the bathroom door is glass."

Tyler smirked. "It's frosted. No peeking, I swear."

"No," she said. "I'm not used to it."

He stood up. "I'll go to the balcony. I'll shower after you're done."

Ellie called out to him, "Did you buy a towel?"

Without turning around, he replied, "No, use yours."

Ellie walked into the bathroom.

The sound of running water drifted out soon.

On the balcony, Tyler frowned as he gazed at the city's endless lights, the sound of the running shower reaching him from inside the apartment.

After standing there for a moment, he dialed a number.

"Ethan."

There was a pause on the other end.

"I need your help."

Ethan pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced at the caller ID.

Confirming it was his younger brother calling, he waved his hand.

Everyone in the office filed out.

"You haven't given me a single worry since you turned sixteen," he said, with a hint of surprise in his voice. "It's been eight years. This is the first time you ask for help."

Tyler let out a small, broken laugh, tinged with relief and sadness.

"It reminds me of when you were a kid. Mom and Dad were busy, and you were such a handful—mischievous and temperamental."

"You've grown up in the blink of an eye. You joined the Dark Vein at sixteen. Then you protected us." Ethan continued, his voice betraying a hint of emotion.

Tyler looked up.

The lights of the city center shone in his eyes.

"I'll keep protecting you," he said. "You just need to maintain your position in the family and fend off the open competition."

"Of course."

There was a pause on the other line.

"Go ahead. Tell me what's going on. I'm here for you."

"It's about love," Tyler said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night as he gazed upward.