Chapter 220

Percival effortlessly took her luggage and walked toward the Porsche Cayenne, the large umbrella shielding them from the scorching sun. Moments before, sweat beaded on her forehead, but now, under the umbrella, she felt cool relief.

As they approached the car, Callum opened the door and took the bag from Percival. Percival held the door open for Odalys. Sliding into the car, she glanced back at the shocked group and, with a casual wave, said, "We'll catch up later."

She settled in as Percival folded the umbrella and slid beside her. The air conditioning was perfectly set.

"Have something to eat," Percival suggested.

Odalys followed his gaze to coffee, water, snacks, and freshly peeled nuts.

"Actually, I'm a little hungry," Odalys admitted.

She picked up a piece of cake and took a bite. After the intense drive, the adrenaline had faded, leaving her drained and hungry. As she ate, Callum returned to the driver's seat, and the car sped off.

"Odalys," Orson's voice interrupted from the front passenger seat, nearly making her choke.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. Orson looked at her with sparkling eyes, as if he'd seen a miracle.

"Want some?" Odalys asked, offering him the cake.

Orson reached for it, but Percival was quicker. He placed a firm hand on Orson's and took the cake back, placing it in front of Odalys. "He doesn't want any," he said flatly.

Orson fell silent, thinking, What a guy. He truly puts women before his friends.

At the international airport, Freya watched Odalys approach the imposing figure. She saw him take her luggage and shield her from the sun with an umbrella.

"They—" Freya's lips parted in shock.

Without thinking, she grabbed the hand of the person beside her and squeezed hard.

Francis, caught off guard, groaned.

"Freya, you're making me bleed," he said, looking at the blood on his hand.

"Does it hurt?" Freya asked quickly.

Francis glanced at his hand. "Yeah, it hurts."

Freya barely heard him. Her thoughts whirled. "So it's not a dream! Who was that man? Is Odalys married? Is that her husband? He has to be at least six and a half feet tall! And those legs! That Porsche Cayenne—was it the limited edition from last year!" she muttered.

She narrowed her eyes, as if about to approach them. But Selali quickly grabbed her and covered her mouth, whispering, "Stop. Don't say anything."

Freya blinked, startled. With a forced laugh, she turned and faced the camera, blocking the view of the man. Stellan, noticing, tilted his head to do the same.

Chapter 220

Everyone subtly positioned themselves to prevent the cameras from capturing anything.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Stone's private jet has arrived. This way, please," an airport staff member announced.

The staff seemed surprised. "We're flying on a private jet?"

"Didn't they fly budget airlines before?" someone murmured.

"Turns out, Odalys chartered a plane herself. It's a direct line to Crownridge—no security checks, just get on and go," Kenny explained proudly. He'd been receiving calls from major industry figures wanting to speak with Odalys.

"Odalys she's that powerful?" someone gasped.

"Wait, a chartered flight? But doesn't that need a lot of lead time? How did she manage to get one on short notice? Is she some kind of rich lady?" someone else said, stunned.

"A private jet, specially chartered by Miss Stone," the staff confirmed, awestruck.

They ushered the group into a VIP access lane and led them directly to the plane. After confirming everyone was on board, the plane took off immediately.

Stellan sat uneasily, his mind racing. He knew returning now would take two hours, but the original plan was seven. Odalys had saved him five hours, but would he make it in time? His thoughts were a mess; he couldn't stop thinking about the messages he'd sent to friends and relatives, asking them to stop whatever was happening. He had no news yet and feared it was too late, judging by Odalys's sudden chartered flight.

"Stop overthinking it," Francis said quietly, sensing his unease. "We're on Odalys's plane now. We're avoiding the airport crowds, so just relax."

Francis's tension eased slightly, but his mind raced. His phone vibrated; it was a call from his girlfriend. He didn't answer, switching it to airplane mode. A message popped up, and after hesitating, he opened it. What he saw made his stomach twist.

"It was a trap," Francis murmured, his voice barely audible. "She's always been engaged to someone in her circle, and they're getting married by the end of the year. I'm not her publicly acknowledged boyfriend—I've been the third wheel. Her fiancé is seriously ill—kidney failure and heart disease. He needs an organ donor, a healthy match. No wonder she's been so controlling about my diet. I thought it was love, but she's been treating me like prey."

The more he read, the angrier he became. All the money he'd sent her went toward her fiancé's treatment. The clothes she'd bought him? Hand-me-downs from the fiancé. She'd told him they were "couple" clothes. He felt disgusted and heartbroken.

"Change your apartment password now. If you can, sell the house," Stellan said urgently.

Francis quickly changed his apartment password and listed his property online. Only then did his anxiety begin to ease. The plane took off, the calls kept coming, but he didn't answer. By the time they were airborne, he'd have no signal. But the sting of being used remained.

"Do you need me to help?" Stellan asked.

6:25 PM

Chapter 220

He wasn't the type to get involved in others' business, especially those in the same industry. He preferred to keep his distance, but after this, his perspective had changed.

"I might be able to help, too," Freya added.

Selali nodded quietly. "I can help as well."

Hearing them, Francis couldn't hold back his tears. He quickly looked up, trying to stop them from falling.