Samantha urged, "Jeremiah, we should hurry and follow them. That woman doesn't look good. The way she looked at Yvette… it was menacing. What if Yvette is ambushed?"

Charles and Eagle King remained calm. Having followed Yvette for years, they knew better than anyone: no one could touch Yvette unless she allowed it. Whatever this woman's intentions, she'd likely end up hurting herself.

Emmett, while believing in Yvette's abilities, shared Samantha's concerns. He nodded. "Jeremiah, I think Samantha is right. We should follow them."

Jeremiah remained motionless, his expression impassive. Emmett and Samantha exchanged puzzled glances. His lack of concern was highly unusual.

Eagle King quickly soothed them, glancing at Jeremiah. Could he know the secret signal between the boss and me? he wondered. Then he explained, "The boss's right finger moved three times subtly. It's our secret signal. She doesn't want us to follow."

Emmett, Charles, and Samantha looked at Eagle King, a touch envious. Eagle King glanced at Jeremiah, curious. "Jeremiah, do you also know the secret signal?"

The others were equally curious. Did Yvette give the same signal to both Jeremiah and Eagle King? they wondered.

Jeremiah set down his wine glass, his gaze sweeping the group. In a low voice, he said, "She never compliments my looks."

It was clear Yvette's apparent reassurance was a calculated move, and he was completely swayed by it. Despite his concern, he wouldn't defy her wishes. The four—Eagle King, Emmett, Charles, and Samantha—sensed a hint of resentment in his tone.

In the car, Lucille, driving a sedan, turned to Yvette in the back seat. "Yvette, what brings you to Voraxia? Tourism?"

Yvette lowered her head, fiddling with her phone. Her gaze deepened, like a cold pond, upon seeing Jeremiah's message. Raising an eyebrow, she replied expressionlessly, "Got dumped by my boyfriend."

Jeremiah was speechless.

Those few words painted a vivid picture for Lucille: a beautiful woman heartbroken by a man. It eased her concerns, especially given the recent mysterious events in Fhongsoly. The Crimson Blades had been wiped out overnight, and caution remained necessary. But what could a pretty girl like Yvette stir up? she mused. The idea of a woman single-handedly taking down a gang seemed absurd.

After nearly an hour driving southeast, they stopped before a villa. Lucille knew they were in the boss's territory. Even if Yvette wished to leave, it was now impossible. She'd have to comply.

Two imposing guards stood at the entrance. Lucille led Yvette to the door, whispering to the guard. He kept glancing at Yvette.

Yvette, hands in her pockets, possessed a delicate, beautiful face and a cool composure. She ignored the guard's scrutiny, making him wary. But after Lucille's persistent persuasion and the promise of companionship, he finally allowed them entry.

Lucille gestured to Yvette, who entered the villa at a leisurely pace. Upon seeing the figure in the center of the room, Lucille knelt, bowing deeply. "Boss."

In the opulent living room, a tall woman turned. She wore a mask over her right cheek, revealing a horrifically scarred left side. The twisted, worm-like scars were nauseating.

Yvette's expression didn't change. She glanced at the woman, then, to their surprise, sat on the sofa, crossing her legs. Her face remained impassive, her eyes half-lidded. "Orange juice, thanks."

The masked woman was taken aback. She'd expected terror, yet Yvette was unnervingly calm. A smile played on her lips. "Go, get this beautiful lady a glass of orange juice."

The servant bowed. "Boss, anything else?"

"No need," the woman replied.

Ignoring the still-kneeling Lucille, the masked woman sat opposite Yvette, deliberately displaying her disfigured face. "Beauty, aren't you afraid of my face? You're the only one so calm."

Yvette crossed her ankles, her dark eyes devoid of warmth, a hint of ruthlessness in her smile. "Fire burn, ten years, at least three failed plastic surgeries."

The masked woman froze. She's right, even about the surgeries! she thought. Sinisterly, she asked, "Are you a doctor? A plastic surgeon? What do you think of my face?"

Yvette raised an eyebrow. "It's quite nice."

The masked woman was stunned. Even Lucille trembled. Everyone knew the boss hated such comments. Yvette was the first to call it 'nice'.

Lucille, fearing implication, urged nervously, "Yvette, don't talk nonsense! Apologize to the boss!"

The masked woman stared at Yvette, unmoving. Is she trying to outdo me in ruthlessness? she wondered.

Then, the masked boss burst into laughter, fixing her gaze on Yvette. "You're Yvette? You're a very interesting woman. I admire you. If you're willing, stay with me. I'll make you the best, beyond reach."

Yvette lazily lifted her gaze, leaning back, her eyes glinting with mischief. Her eyes narrowed, then curved into a playful smirk. "Hello, Ms. Miller."