Jimmy watched Hector stand motionless at the door for a long time. Unable to decipher Hector’s thoughts, he remained at his side, offering silent companionship.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Bonnie emerged from the room. Hector looked past Bonnie, his gaze settling on Yvette, who was eating. His eyes narrowed slightly as he instantly recognized her. Even with her head down, vestiges of her childhood features were faintly visible.
Bonnie, startled by the unexpected stranger, politely inquired, "Hello, sir. Can I help you with something?"
Her words drew the attention of Jeremiah and Andrew, who were conversing with their backs to the door. They turned to face the entrance; Jeremiah even offered Hector a blank, yet piercingly cold, stare.
Hector’s body tensed. He sensed danger emanating from Jeremiah. Andrew, too, frowned—an interruption during a meal was unwelcome. He wondered if news of Jeremiah's identity had leaked from the police station, prompting such an approach. Andrew's expression mirrored his apprehension.
Hector, however, felt confused. He hadn't spoken a word; how had he offended these men? Meanwhile, none of them noticed the fleeting shock in Yvette’s eyes as she looked up.
"Yvette, it's me, Hector," he said.
Jeremiah, surprised that the man knew Yvette, and noting Hector’s demeanor suggested familiarity, softened his expression. "Sir, you know Yvette? Come in, then," Bonnie invited politely.
Hector remained where he was. With the cordiality of a friendly neighbor, he thanked Bonnie.
"Let's talk outside," Yvette said coldly.
Hector showed no surprise or displeasure. He looked at her affectionately and nodded. "Okay, I'll wait for you outside. No rush. Take your time finishing your meal."
Jimmy’s eyes widened. Hector, known for his stern, emotionless demeanor at the company, had never displayed such gentleness. He found Hector's behavior and Yvette's response perplexing.
Meanwhile, Hector closed the door, walked to the end of the corridor, and instructed Jimmy to have his bodyguard retrieve his briefcase from downstairs.
Inside the private room, Yvette absentmindedly ate, then removed her jacket, revealing a simple white T-shirt and casual pants. Andrew found her intriguing. While she could easily wager a hundred million dollars without a second thought, her attire suggested poverty. Yet, her striking appearance and self-assured manner transcended her simple clothing.
"You guys should eat first. I'm heading out for a bit," Yvette announced quietly, exiting calmly.
Andrew joked, "You better hurry back, or we'll finish everything, and you'll end up starving!"
Yvette smiled faintly, but said nothing. Jeremiah watched her leave, pondering her slight frame.
Outside, Yvette found Hector smoking, his posture slightly slumped. She sighed; why had he appeared when they were supposed to remain apart? She quickly resumed her carefree demeanor, approaching him. Their eyes met. Hector’s excitement was tempered by the calm steadiness of Yvette's gaze. He extinguished his cigarette.
"Yvette, have you been well all these years?" he asked.
Yvette nodded casually, leaning against the wall. "It's not bad, Hector."
Her voice stirred memories in Hector. He recalled Lawrence Ross selecting her from a thousand children, her prodigious talent at five—mastering complex piano pieces in mere minutes. Lawrence had groomed her as his successor; she could have been a world-renowned pianist. Hector, who had treated her as his own child from ages three to eight, felt a pang of sorrow for the genius Lawrence's selfishness had destroyed.
His voice trembled with emotion. "Yvette, Lawrence regretted what happened in his final moments. He said he was sorry. If he could choose again, he definitely would…"
Yvette lifted her head, sneering. "He would what? Expose his son for plagiarizing a student's compositions? Mr. Ross wouldn't do that, Hector. You know it very well."
Hector's face fell; Yvette was right. No one understood Lawrence's selfishness better than he.
"Yvette, Elliot Ross has been coasting on his laurels for years. He's talentless, still using the compositions you left behind. Mr. Derek Ross said that if you want, he'll reveal the truth and return what's rightfully yours," Hector said, his eyes hopeful. He longed for her return to music.
Yvette looked down, a mixture of irritation and indifference in her expression. She thought of the blood staining her hands, a reason for abandoning the piano.
"I'm done playing. Tell Derek not to look for me anymore," she stated, unconcerned about his years of searching. The unexpected encounter in Seacrity annoyed her.
Hector knew further persuasion was futile. Since childhood, nothing could change her mind once made. He softened his tone. "Give me your number, Yvette. I'm heading back to Mysonna tomorrow and won't be in Seacrity for a while."
She paused, gave him her number, and left. Hector remained where he stood, his gaze distant and heavy, lost in the memories of years past.
A bodyguard arrived with his briefcase. Hector checked its contents, then instructed him to deliver it to Jimmy with a message before returning to Mysonna. Before boarding the plane, he made a considered phone call.