Silas and Yvette agreed that Yvette would visit Mysonna in three months to supervise the interns for a week. Silas was satisfied. They chatted briefly before parting ways.
As soon as Yvette entered her apartment, she saw Flying Fish on the couch, looking troubled. "To run or not to run," Flying Fish mused. Noticing Yvette, Flying Fish exclaimed, "Boss, you're finally here!"
Yvette nodded, understanding Flying Fish's distress. "The antique?" she asked.
Flying Fish felt a surge of panic. Who could have guessed Boss knows Silas? If I'd known, I never would have taken this job, she thought.
Yvette's eyebrows lifted slightly, her expression indifferent yet subtly smiling. "It's sorted," she said in her deep voice. "Silas won't pursue it."
Flying Fish leaped up, then halted under Yvette's calm gaze. "Boss, it's really over? That old man isn't going to cause trouble? I can finally relax! He's got all those toxins; what if he'd tricked me? I was terrified," she confessed.
Yvette changed into her slippers, hands in her pockets, and walked calmly toward Charles's room, acknowledging Flying Fish with a slight nod.
Flying Fish, seeing Yvette head to Charles, remained on the couch, calling Eagle King. He'd taken a job and hadn't contacted her in three days.
After Silas left, Charles felt his strength returning. His features, then hands and feet, and finally his whole body, regained movement. As he tried to sit up, Yvette entered, raising an eyebrow.
"Ms. Zeller, you're here," Charles greeted.
Yvette lounged in a beanbag chair, exuding a relaxed air, while Charles sat awkwardly beside her. His memory of Yvette was still dominated by their grueling six-month training years ago; they'd had little contact since.
Yvette played a game on her phone, her voice detached and cool. "What are your plans now?"
Charles paused, then looked at Yvette. "Ms. Zeller, Damian saved my life. Now that Braydon has acted against me, I feel I've repaid my debt to the Goodman family. Can I…" He hesitated, embarrassed.
Yvette switched off her game, noticing his flushed face. "Spit it out," she said.
Charles stammered, "Ms. Zeller, I want to follow you."
Silence hung in the air. Charles felt a pang of sadness, assuming Yvette's silence meant refusal. Just as he was about to speak, she said, "Okay."
Charles was astonished. Does Ms. Zeller agree? Really? he thought, his face lighting up.
The surprise momentarily stunned him, but he quickly regained his composure, appearing energized. "Thank you, Ms. Zeller," he said.
Yvette, observing his elation, added, "I'm attending college in Seacrity, Clusia. Prepare yourself. We leave the day after tomorrow."
Charles's joy vanished, replaced by horror. Ms. Zeller is going to college? What a joke! he thought. He cautiously asked, "Ms. Zeller, does Professor Fry know you're going to college?"
Yvette shrugged. "He doesn't know, and there's no need for him to."
Charles was speechless. Only Yvette would dare be so blunt with Professor Fry, the principal of the top university, whose students were more than qualified to be professors themselves. Yet, Yvette was returning to college in a small Clusian city. Who can understand this decision? he wondered. She had graduated top of her class in finance, yet now she was returning to study.
Yvette stood, preparing to leave. Charles quickly said, "Ms. Zeller, you should warn Mr. Walson about Braydon. He might be planning something."
Yvette nodded, exiting the room.
Back in the living room, Flying Fish and Eagle King were engaged in a heated video chat. Seeing Yvette, Flying Fish quickly turned the camera.
Eagle King was momentarily stunned by Yvette's beauty. "Boss, Boss, I'm here!" he shouted.
Yvette's expression softened. She glanced at Eagle King, noting his improved physique. It looks like he's eating well, she thought. She replied with a simple "Hmm," remembering a prior engagement, and left after a few words.
West Isle was Damian's residence, the former Goodman family patriarch. Years ago, Braydon had exiled him. Damian, who had ruled Mysonna's underworld for decades, now lived a tranquil life.
Who was Damian? Forty years prior, amidst Mysonna's chaotic underworld, he rose from nothing, using his sharp mind and ruthlessness to form the Goodman Clan and unify the gangs over a decade. Braydon's rise to power a few years ago led to Damian's exile to West Isle.
In his magnificent villa, Damian, leaning on his cane, watched exotic fish in his tank. A deep smile played on his lips as he fed them, then he moved to the couch, stroking the dragon head of his cane, lost in thought.
Tyson Stonewall, Damian's longtime butler and a renowned martial arts expert, entered.
Damian's cloudy eyes flashed. "Have you confirmed it? Is she back?" he asked.
Tyson nodded respectfully. "Mr. Goodman, she's back. Mr. Braydon Goodman met with her, but it didn't go well. They parted on bad terms. Insiders say Mr. Braydon was so enraged he wiped out over a hundred Tiger Head members," Tyson reported.
Damian chuckled coldly. Braydon is still so incompetent. Over the years, I've given him many opportunities, yet he loses his composure the moment he sees her. He's utterly unreliable, he mused.
"Make arrangements. I need to return to Mysonna. Since she's back, we should meet," Damian declared.
Tyson nodded.