Chapter 543

Chapter 543

On the third day of Beatrice's disappearance, the Grace family fell apart.

Oscar had practically torn Sovereign City inside out—no body, no trace. Finally, with nowhere else to turn, he swallowed his pride and showed up at the Garcia Villa.

Zoey received him in the living room.

Oscar sat on the couch, hair disheveled, eyes sunken. He looked like he'd aged a decade overnight.

"Ms. King," he began, his voice hoarse, "I know you and Beatrice might have had some misunderstandings, but she's still my daughter. Can you please tell me where she is?"

Zoey looked at him without a word.

She simply picked up an envelope from the table and handed it over.

Oscar froze for a moment, then opened it.

Inside was a complete dossier.

Cleo's prison records. Cosmetic surgery files. A paternity test between Cleo and Scarlett. And a timeline of every move Cleo had made after becoming Beatrice.

In the photos, Cleo's face gradually overlapped with the woman who now called herself Beatrice.

Oscar's hands started to shake.

His expression shifted from confusion to shock, from shock to deathly pale, and finally to something indescribably hollow.

"This... this can't be..."

He looked up at Zoey, lips trembling. "Are you saying Beatrice is Cleo? That stepsister who sent you to prison?"

Zoey lifted her water glass and took a delicate sip.

"Mr. Grace," she said quietly, "you've been played."

Oscar collapsed back into the couch as if every ounce of strength had drained from his body.

He thought back to those days—how he'd doted on Beatrice, his long-lost daughter. How he'd defended her in front of Clea. How he'd treated her like his precious jewel.

All of it fake. All of it a joke.

He was a complete and utter fool.

Oscar didn't know how he made it out of the Garcia Villa. He returned to the Grace Mansion and locked himself in his study for an entire day.

Clea and her mother didn't disturb him.

They'd known all along that Beatrice wasn't what she seemed.

From the moment Beatrice first appeared in the Grace family, Clea had dug into her background.

Those riddled-with-holes credentials. That flimsy backstory. She'd seen through it all.

She hadn't exposed her because she wanted to see what this woman was really after.

Now, the truth was out.

Oscar stayed in his study for three days.

When he finally emerged, he looked like he'd aged another decade, but his eyes were clearer.

He looked at Clea, opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Clea walked over and gently patted his shoulder.

"Dad, as long as the Grace family is okay."

That one sentence made Oscar's eyes redden.

Half a month later.

Clea and Daryl got engaged.

The engagement party was low-key, with only close friends and family invited.

Zoey and Alexander were there too.

In the banquet hall, Clea wore a champagne-colored gown and stood beside Daryl, a faint smile on her lips.

Daryl had traded his usual devil-may-care attitude for a sharp suit, and there was something surprisingly serious in his expression.

Zoey walked over with a glass of wine, looking him up and down.

"Marriage-phobe?" she said, arching an eyebrow.

Daryl coughed and rubbed his nose. "That's ancient history."

"Ancient history?"

"When you meet the right person, the past doesn't matter." As he spoke, he glanced at Clea with a tenderness he probably didn't even realize was there.

Clea looked away, a little embarrassed.

Zoey watched the exchange, a small smile tugging at her lips.

She turned back to Daryl. "So, what did you get me?"

Daryl blinked, then laughed. "Knew I couldn't fool you."

He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

"When you get there, find this person. He can help you take down the Viper organization."

Zoey glanced down at it, then froze.

The card had a name and an address.

That name—she knew it too well.

So well that even after twenty years, seeing it made her heart skip a beat.

"I don't need it," she said reflexively.

But the moment the words left her mouth, she fell silent.

Daryl looked at her and smiled. "Zoey, some things you can't run from."

Zoey said nothing.

She just stared at that card, unable to look away.

Alexander came over, saw the card in her hand and the look on her face, and his brow furrowed slightly.

"What's wrong?"

Zoey looked up and met his gaze.

"This person," she said softly, "is my mentor."

Alexander went still.

Zoey's mentor?

The mysterious figure who'd taught her medicine, hacking, even her combat skills?

"I thought..." Zoey paused. "I thought I'd never see him again."

Alexander squeezed her hand.

"Then go see him," he said. "I'll come with you."

Zoey looked at him and nodded quietly.

Three days later.

Zoey and Alexander boarded a flight overseas.

Over ten hours later, they landed in a city in the southern hemisphere.

Following the address on the card, they found an unremarkable house on the outskirts of town.

They knocked. The door opened.

A middle-aged man with graying hair and loose cotton clothes stood in the doorway. The moment he saw Zoey, his eyes lit up.

"Zoey!"

He spread his arms wide, about to lunge forward.

Zoey sidestepped smoothly.

The old man stumbled into empty air but didn't seem bothered. He just grinned at her. "After all these years, still cold as ice."

Zoey looked at him, her expression unchanged.

"Let's talk business."

The old man sighed and turned his gaze to Alexander, sizing him up. "So this is your man? Looks decent enough. But does he deserve you?"

Alexander stayed silent.

Zoey: "Business."

The old man finally dropped the grin and ushered them inside.

In the living room, Alexander noticed the photos on the wall. He was a little surprised.

They showed a small girl, from around five or six years old to her teens. The features faintly resembled Zoey.

"That's Zoey when she was six," the old man said from the side. "Ran away from home. Found her wandering the streets and took her in."

Alexander looked at Zoey.

Zoey said nothing, her gaze resting on the photos with a flicker of something distant.

"She was skinny as a rail back then," the old man continued, his tone tinged with nostalgia. "Covered in bruises. Eyes full of defiance. I asked if she wanted to learn from me. She asked what for. I said so no one could hurt her again. She nodded."

Alexander listened, something tightening quietly in his chest.

He thought of everything Zoey had endured over the years.

The coldness. The betrayal. The wounds.

"I taught her medicine, hacking, how to fight." The old man sighed. "But none of it could compete with that ridiculous thing called family."

He looked at Zoey, his gaze full of sympathy. "If she hadn't cared about those so-called relatives, she never would've ended up in prison."

Zoey didn't respond.

"Good thing she woke up fast," the old man continued. "Got out in a year. Some people never wake up."

Zoey finally spoke, her voice flat. "Business."

The old man looked at her, shook his head, and smiled again.

"Fine. Business."

He stood and walked to the window, gazing into the distance.

"I've already found Viper's headquarters. I've just been waiting for you to come find me."

Zoey stood up, her tone detached. "Then let's go."

One hour.

It took only one hour.

Zoey and the old man led a team into Viper's headquarters like they owned the place.

Those so-called elites, assassins, mercenaries—they crumbled like paper in front of them.

Alexander waited outside with his people. When the noise inside finally stopped, he went in.

Through the wrecked hallway, he found Zoey.

She stood in the center of the main hall. At her feet knelt a trembling man—the leader of the Viper organization.

The man's face was covered in blood, his eyes wild with terror. When he saw Alexander enter, he looked at him like a lifeline and struggled desperately to crawl toward him.

Zoey kicked him back down.

She looked at Alexander, her gaze calm, her tone even.

"He's yours."

Alexander walked over and pulled her into his arms.

She smelled faintly of blood, but to him, it was the best scent in the world.

"Zoey," he murmured.

Zoey leaned into him and hummed softly.

The old man stood a short distance away, watching them, and broke into a grin.

"Zoey, this guy's not bad."

Zoey lifted her head from Alexander's embrace and glanced at him.

Her expression was as cool as ever, but the old man caught a hint of something—maybe a smile.

He paused, then grinned even wider.