In the blink of an eye, Sophia found herself standing at the grand entrance of Tryson’s house, the imposing structure towering before her.
The soft hum of the car engine faded as Jude stepped out of the vehicle, his movents smooth and deliberate.
She watched, almost entranced, as he adjusted his jacket and then, embodying the very essence of a gentleman, made his way towards her side.
With effortless grace, he reached for the car door and pulled it open, extending a silent invitation for her to step out.
As she erged, her gaze instinctively swept across the surroundings, her breath hitching slightly at the sight before her.
The house exuded an air of understated elegance, its sophisticated yet welcoming aura instantly captivating her.
The carefully maintained hedges, the polished marble steps, and the warm, golden glow spilling from the windows all combined to paint a picture of quiet luxury.
A part of her now understood why Angel had been so fond of this place—there was sothing enchanting about it, sothing that felt both safe and intriguing.
She lingered a mont longer, taking in the simplicity and beauty of the house’s exterior, before Jude’s calm voice broke through her thoughts.
"We need to head inside now," he said, his voice steady yet gentle.
Sophia shifted her gaze to him, eting his patient expression before giving a small nod.
Together, they ascended the steps, crossing the threshold into the house. The mont they stepped inside, they were imdiately acknowledged by the attentive staff.
The scent of polished wood and fresh flowers greeted her, mingling with the faint aroma of sothing delicious cooking in the distance.
A mber of the household staff approached them with practiced professionalism, their deanor warm yet composed.
Sophia was guided towards a plush couch in the lavishly decorated living room, where she sank into the seat, montarily lost in thought.
anwhile, Jude ascended the grand staircase, his footsteps quiet against the polished floors, disappearing into the upper level of the house.
"Ma’am, is there anything you may need?"
The gentle inquiry drew Sophia’s attention, and she turned her head toward the worker who had addressed her.
Their tone was polite, their posture respectful, yet there was a certain familiarity in their eyes, as if they already knew more about her presence in this house than she did herself.
Sophia’s gaze settled on the man before her, his well-tailored butler’s uniform fitting comfortably over his lean fra.
He appeared to be in his later years, the fine lines on his face hinting at a life well-lived. Yet, when he smiled—a warm, genuine expression that radiated kindness—it was as if ti had no hold on him.
The twinkle in his eyes and the gentle curve of his lips made his age irrelevant, his presence exuding both wisdom and an unexpected vibrancy.
"Hm," Sophia muttered under her breath, her fingers idly brushing against the fabric of her dress.
A quiet hesitation lingered in her voice, not because she was uncertain of what to say, but because, at that mont, asking for anything felt unnecessary. There were far more pressing matters at hand—more than food, more than comfort.
Angel needed to be saved.
The thought alone made her chest tighten.
She still couldn’t fully comprehend the twisted ga unfolding around them, but one thing was clear—Arthur’s sudden decision to marry Angel, only to plan a divorce soon after, was no coincidence.
Sothing crucial was happening behind the scenes, sothing that neither Angel nor she had been prepared for.
Angel had never wanted to be with Arthur. That much was undeniable.
So why was this happening? What was being set into motion, and why did it feel as if they were re pieces on soone else’s chessboard?
Sophia swallowed, forcing down the unease creeping into her thoughts. Right now, none of that mattered more than Angel’s safety.
If she could be certain—without a shadow of a doubt—that Angel was out of harm’s way, only then would she allow herself to relax. Only then would she indulge in sothing as simple as a al.
But for now, her own hunger, her own needs, would have to wait.
The most important woman in her life was in danger. And until she was sure Angel was in safe hands, nothing else would co before that.
"Thank you so much, sir, but I think I’ll hold that thought for now," Sophia said politely, her voice carrying a hint of quiet resolve.
She watched as the butler, rather than insisting, simply nodded in understanding. There was no trace of pressure in his deanor, only the sa gentle patience that seed to define him.
"Well, if you’re not up for a full al, at least a simple refreshnt would do. Will that work for you?" Moses asked casually, his tone light yet considerate.
Sophia hesitated for only a mont before offering a small, appreciative smile. "Okay then, thanks."
With a respectful bow of his head, Moses turned and exited the room, leaving Sophia alone with her thoughts once more.
As soon as he was gone, the quiet settled in, wrapping around her like a heavy fog. She exhaled slowly, her mind wandering back to the one thing she couldn’t shake—Jude.
What was he up to right now? Had he found out anything new? Was he any closer to figuring out what was really going on with Angel?
anwhile, sowhere else in the vast house, Jude stepped out of the elevator, his expression unreadable as he strode down the hallway toward Tryson’s room.
His mind, however, was anything but clear. The information Moses had given him still weighed heavily on his thoughts, blurring the edges of his usual sharp focus.
Sothing about it didn’t sit right. Sothing about it felt... wrong.
And if Moses was right, then things were about to get a lot more complicated than any of them had anticipated.
Moses had inford Jude of sothing strange—since the previous night, Tryson had requested the presence of his lawyer, and the man had been with him in his room since morning.
Why?
Why would Tryson need a lawyer at a ti like this? They were all supposed to be focused on finding Angel.
The situation was dire, and the fact that Sophia had been found should have been a relief, a reason for Tryson to shift his attention back to the real issue.
And yet... instead of celebrating this progress, he was locked away with legal counsel.
The whole thing didn’t sit right with Jude.
As he reached Tryson’s door, a deep sense of unease settled in his chest. Without hesitation, he grasped the doorknob, turned it, and pushed the door open.
The sight that greeted him only deepened his suspicions.
From the doorway, Jude saw Tryson seated on a couch near the side of the room, his posture stiff, his focus entirely on the man beside him—the lawyer.
The man was dressed in a crisp professional outfit, yet he sat slightly hunched forward, speaking in hushed tones while gripping a file in his hand.
Jude took a asured step into the room, his eyes flickering between the two n.
"Tryson. Michael." His voice was calm, yet laced with quiet authority.
Tryson barely acknowledged him, his expression unreadable. The lawyer, on the other hand, shifted slightly, as if contemplating whether he should continue their discussion in front of Jude.
And in that mont, Jude knew—sothing was going on. Sothing serious. And he had absolutely no idea what it was.
"What’s going on? Why the sudden need to see Michael?" Jude asked, his voice soft yet laced with concern as he watched the lawyer straighten up from where he had been leaning toward Tryson.
Michael turned his gaze toward Jude, his expression unreadable. "Hi, Jude," he greeted casually, as if this eting were nothing out of the ordinary.
"Hey," Jude responded, his eyes briefly scanning Michael for any telltale signs of what was unfolding. Then, stepping forward, he extended his hand, eting Michael’s in a firm, professional handshake.
There was a tension in the air, subtle yet undeniable, as if unspoken words hovered just beneath the surface of their exchange. Whatever was going on here, it was bigger than Jude had initially thought.
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