Chapter 460

Evander sat down, taking a sip of his cereal. “If it weren’t for Edie’s scheming all those years ago, Freya wouldn’t have moved out,” he murmured thoughtfully, nodding slightly. “But even now, since she’s moved in with the Stewarts, she’s been playing by the rules, keeping her distance from Percival.”

Without blood ties, people are quick to spread rumors. Freya and Evander spoke occasionally on the phone, but she rarely visited the Stewart Villa, and their connection remained largely unknown. She never relied on them for anything.

“Anyone else would have failed to do that,” Evander added reflectively.

Dorian, who had been listening intently, sighed. “I wonder if Edie regrets marrying into the Bennett family. It’s a mess over there now. She’s gained nothing from it.”

It was obvious to anyone that Edie’s decision was a colossal mistake.

“Speaking of which, the person I had you watch—he returned from the mountain village. I was watching him, but last night, Callum’s people were careless, and he escaped.”

“The Bennett Villa was empty last night. After going to the Bennetts, he took control of Hannah. Now his people are there. Should we go after him?” Dorian asked cautiously.

Evander knew exactly who he meant. This man had been the Stewarts’ tailor, making all their custom clothes. After Odalys found the dead man’s clothes in the pool at the old house, Evander became suspicious. He was too shrewd to lose his wits.

“Since Percival has already acted, let him stay with the Bennetts. As long as he doesn’t harm anyone from the Stewart family, let him keep his miserable life. But if he dares to target Percival or Odalys…” Evander’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then we kill him.”

Dorian nodded in understanding. Evander met his gaze, and they exchanged a silent, knowing smile.

“Old man,” Evander muttered, shaking his head.

Dorian chuckled and served him more food. When they looked up, Freya and Selah were already gone for their shoot.

Chapter 460 (Continued)

In a Film Capital hotel room, Odalys slept soundly until one in the afternoon. When she woke, Freya and Selah were gone, leaving her alone.

“Mm…” She stretched lazily, enjoying the bed before getting up. After washing, she glanced at the clothes on the sofa. As she picked them up, a small piece of paper slipped out. It was in Freya’s handwriting: “Odalys, I washed your clothes and got you a new set. Love, Freya.”

Odalys stared at the note before looking at the black camisole in her hands. A soft silence followed.

She slipped into the camisole, which highlighted her collarbones and shoulders. It wasn’t revealing, but it outlined her waist and enhanced her figure. The silk gave her an ethereal glow. Her long hair was in a low ponytail as she picked up her canvas bag and headed for the door.

Just as she opened it, she saw a tall figure in the living room. His back was turned as he gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Percival? What are you doing here?” Odalys asked, stepping forward lightly.

Chapter 160

Hearing her voice, Percival slowly turned. Their eyes met, and he froze, his gaze lingering on her black camisole, the curve of her shoulders, and her fragrance. She moved like a gentle breeze, stirring something deep inside him.

As she smiled, his throat tightened.

“I thought something might have happened, so I came to check on you,” Percival said awkwardly. His gaze dropped to her collarbones, and he instinctively turned away.

Odalys blinked, realizing what must have happened. Last night’s events had become public knowledge—police involvement would naturally lead to reports.

“Yes, something did happen last night,” Odalys confirmed.

She explained the events, and Percival listened silently. But a lazy voice cut through the air:

“So, someone’s targeting Francis now?” Orson’s voice was casual as he leaned against the couch.

Odalys turned, finding him sprawled on the sofa. His carefree arrogance was unmistakable.

“Orson, what are you doing here?” Odalys asked, surprised.

While Orson often followed Percival, his presence wasn’t unusual.

“Percival came to check on you, but I also had something to discuss, so I tagged along,” Orson said, shrugging and standing up. He held an iPad and walked toward Odalys, handing it to her. “This is a list of people Oliver’s been in contact with over the past month, along with his movements. Our people have pinpointed a small alley where we suspect he’s hiding. I didn’t want to alert him.”

As Orson mentioned the alley, Odalys remembered the old man she’d seen rushing toward the same alley, entering a courtyard with an energy field.

“Is this the place?” Odalys asked, showing him a photo on her phone.

Orson leaned over, glanced at the photo, and nodded. “Yes, he went into a courtyard further inside.”

“It seems like Oliver knows the old tailor from the mountain village. No wonder his son died at the Bennett Villa—he timed it perfectly,” Odalys said with a sharp laugh. Everything was falling into place.

“No wonder Oliver’s been so smooth in Crownridge’s upper circles. Looks like the old tailor’s been helping him,” Odalys added ironically.

“Are they really acquainted? My people never reported them meeting,” Orson scratched his head, confused. He felt everyone was far more complicated than he’d thought.

“Not meeting is the problem,” Odalys said. “This man is all about revenge. Why hasn’t he teamed up with anyone? He’s been working alone, which is strange.”

The people who blend in best are often the most dangerous.

“Oh, and remember when you told me to let Finnian go? Well, after I did, I had people watching him. Last night, Sophia was quietly taken from the police station. Finnian must have been tracking me, but instead, he ran into Sophia. After injuring her, he took her away.”

Orson shared the news quietly, adding another layer to the complex web.