The next morning, Emmett dragged his suitcase into the living room. Two people sat at the breakfast table; he forced a slight smile, braced himself, and approached. “Mr. Chavez, Mrs. Chavez, good morning. It’s a lovely day. If you have no further instructions, I’ll head to the airport. Please take your time. Bye, Yvette.” He was ready for a quick escape.

Emmett’s early morning trip to the airport was all thanks to Frankie.

Jeremiah casually offered Yvette a dumpling, then watched Emmett, as if expecting him to flee. Calmly, he asked, “Did you create the group chat?”

Yvette, focused on her dumplings, glanced up at the flustered Emmett.

Last night, Frankie had screenshotted Emmett’s group chat message and sent it to Jeremiah. It worked perfectly—for Frankie, at least—resulting in Emmett’s assignment to the Afria gold mine project, while Frankie was reassigned to Mysonna. Frankie had demonstrated "brotherly loyalty" to the fullest.

Cold sweat instantly drenched Emmett. He thought, Isn't this adding insult to injury? I created that small group chat to help Jeremiah. Who knew Frankie, that bastard, would use me to get back to Mysonna? What a heartless move. Upon returning from Afria, he'd head straight to the States and… well, let’s just say Frankie would regret his actions.

Emmett quickly explained, “Mr. Chavez, I created the group chat when you were missing in the rainforest to maintain contact, definitely not to spread gossip. You must believe me.”

Yvette finished her dumpling, shooting him a glance and tapping her toes. She thought, Isn't this a confession?

Emmett hadn't realized his error. His sincerity was evident. Jeremiah smiled knowingly. “Not bad,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

Seeing his opportunity, Emmett grabbed his luggage and bolted. He was gone in seconds, his composure shattered. Forget aloofness; escape was paramount. He thought, Did I just see a murderous glint in Jeremiah's eyes? If I don't run now, when will I?

Only after boarding the plane did Emmett realize the unsettling implication of Jeremiah's "not bad." Something felt wrong. Arriving in Afria, he understood. Three days of work had stretched into two weeks. The godforsaken place felt like it was slowly atrophying his limbs.

Worse, the miners there took a liking to Emmett, showering him with unwanted attention. His physical and mental health suffered greatly, leaving him with a lingering dread of women for quite some time after his return. Mr. Chavez's methods of punishment were unmatched. Afterward, the group chat remained gossip-free.

At dinner, Yvette’s phone buzzed. It was James, inviting her to tour the physics lab. After a pause, she replied, "Okay."

Jeremiah glanced at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Any plans after dinner? Care to join me at the military base?”

Jeremiah, though technically on leave, remained busy with military duties. Even vacation offered little respite at his level. His schedule was packed due to Ybaulla's visit to Clusia.

Yvette’s gaze was dark and bright, calm as a deep pool. She thought, Why do people keep inviting me to these secret places? The National Physics Lab, the First Military District—are these places ordinary people can visit?

She smiled, her voice cool and clear. “I can’t go; I’m visiting the physics lab with James.”

Jeremiah paused, his grip tightening on his cup. His expression deepened, his voice low. “He’s taking you to the physics lab?”

Yvette nodded freely. “Yeah, just browsing.”

Jeremiah took a sip of water, nodding without further inquiry. Yvette was busier than he was; a break wouldn't have brought her to the physics lab since her arrival in Betrico. James must genuinely like Yvette, or…

Besides cleared researchers, only James could bring someone in.

Jeremiah stared at her, sighing, "I always feel like you don't need me."

The words, unexpected from such a strong, cold man, were almost unbelievable. Perhaps this was the insecurity of love; Jeremiah never anticipated feeling this way.

Yvette paused, her brow furrowed, her wrist resting casually on the table. She looked at Jeremiah calmly. “Jeremiah, I’ve never waited around. I don’t rely on anyone. True strength matters, and that’s how I live. A relationship won't change that. Stop reading those cheesy romance novels Andrew gives you.”

Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, her collarbone striking beneath her shirt. Leaning forward, her voice softened with playful teasing. “Saving a damsel? No way. But a damsel saving a hero? That, I might consider.”

Her words were bold and arrogant, yet irrefutable. Yvette possessed the strength to back them up.

Jeremiah coughed awkwardly. How did she find those novels? he wondered.

He looked at her intently, exuding elegance and nobility even in casual clothes. His handsome, calm profile seemed to glow softly. His gaze lingered on the curve of her neck, his lips pressing together. Such a beautiful, unmarked neck—it felt incomplete. In a deep voice, he said, “I’m yours. Whenever you feel like saving me, I’ll be here. However you choose.”

Something felt wrong, yet his expression remained sincere. In reality, he was steering the conversation toward suggestive territory.

Yvette sat back, crossing her legs, a cold glint in her eyes. This old man had become increasingly flirtatious. The slightest disagreement led to suggestive talk.

At the Terrell residence, Ronald Terrell, the former national finance overseer, enjoyed his retirement. He, Jase, James, and Walter Moore, lifelong friends bonded through shared struggles, met regularly for coffee and reminiscing. These gatherings were less frequent now, making each one special.

Jase arrived last, being the busiest. James, leaning on his cane, scowled at Jase and Yusef's arrival. The Chavez family brat had stolen his newly recognized granddaughter, dashing any hopes of pleasantries.

Jase wore an elegant, custom-made dark suit; all four men wore outfits of identical material and craftsmanship, clearly from the same tailor.

Ronald said, “You finally made it, Jase. It’s not easy seeing you these days.”

Walter nodded. “That’s right. Take it easy on those old bones. Don’t pretend you’re still…”