Chapter 575

Odalys looked at Percival, glancing at his leg, clearly puzzled. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice uncertain.

Percival saw the doubt in her eyes. His throat tightened, and his fingers gripped the seatbelt, as if seeking steadiness. The intensity in his dark gaze softened. After a brief pause, he asked, "Does my age bother you?"

Odalys didn't respond immediately. Percival turned to see her leaving the car. He watched her jog away, absentmindedly rubbing his forehead, feeling the weight of the situation. Soon, she returned with a cup of coffee.

"Here you go," Odalys said, handing it to him as she sipped her smoothie.

Percival stared at the coffee, his expression conflicted. He tightened his grip but didn't drink. "Hold on, what did you say earlier?" Odalys asked, confused. She recalled something about disliking his age but hadn't understood.

"It's nothing," Percival replied, quickly looking away. He sipped the coffee—strong, black, with a touch of milk—the bitterness lingering as he stared out the window, lost in thought.

He rarely sat in the passenger seat, but with Odalys driving, he couldn't help but watch her. His emotions stirred as he observed her focused expression in the rearview mirror. He thought, I've always been confident, but I feel more cautious around her, afraid that one wrong move might make her leave. If she decides to go, I won't stop her.

"By the way," Odalys said, breaking his thoughts, "Celeste brought me a rare emerald from Oswald this morning. I felt a strange connection, like memories from a past life, but then it stopped, and I'm not sure what happened." She thought, I meant to tell him, but I completely forgot.

Percival glanced up, his lashes fluttering, but he remained silent. Odalys sensed the shift in his mood and said nothing. She glanced at him occasionally, noticing his pensive state.

She stepped out when the car stopped before Stewart Villa, but Percival remained silent. "I'll have a couple of bodyguards follow you," he said, walking toward the villa. "You may be capable, but you're not familiar with nightclubs. It's reassuring to have someone with you."

Odalys quickly jogged to him and grabbed his sleeve. He stopped, the pain in his leg flaring slightly, but he didn't show it.

"When you were injured, the dried blood you packed away… take it to Morpheus's place and place it on that patch of earth," she said softly, pointing toward the large tree.

Percival nodded. "Understood."

He walked forward, his long strides masking the pain. He wasn't one to show weakness. Reaching the patch of earth, he pressed the blood down firmly. After a silent moment, he spoke.

"Morpheus, I care about her. What do you think I should do?" he asked, his voice low, almost to himself. "I know I'm much older than her. The man she'd probably prefer isn't someone like me. If she decides to leave, should I let her go?"

Images of her smile, her joy, filled his mind. It felt as though she was slipping away. Percival's fingers tightened into a fist. He thought, Odalys is so strong, yet it makes me feel insignificant. I can control everything around me, run a business empire, but I have no control over her.

Turning, he saw Odalys at a distance, playing with her phone, likely chatting. He was surprised she hadn't left, but she was waiting.

Feeling his gaze, Odalys walked toward him and took his arm. "Your leg is still injured; be careful," she said gently. "If you can handle things from home, don't go out. You'll end up with rheumatism."

She helped him toward Stewart Villa. Just then, a bodyguard approached, looking pleased. "Mr. Stewart, Callum has regained consciousness," the bodyguard reported.

Percival's brow relaxed slightly. "What about others? Any sign of improvement?" he asked.

"They woke up earlier, Mr. Stewart. Their injuries weren't as severe as Callum's," the bodyguard replied.

"Good. Let them rest. Give them the day off. Once fully recovered, send them back to work. Also, give them an extra injury compensation of 300 thousand dollars each," Percival ordered.

The bodyguard nodded. "Understood. I'll take care of it immediately."

Odalys was taken aback by his generosity. "I'll check on Callum. You should get some rest," Percival said, glancing at Odalys.

Odalys guided him toward the rear garden. Reaching Callum's room, Percival knocked softly before entering. Callum sat on the bed, dazed, not noticing Percival's arrival.

"Callum, how are you feeling?" Percival asked, his voice filled with concern.

Callum tensed at Percival's voice, instinctively reaching for something under his pillow—a gun. Pulling back his hand, he asked, "Mr. Stewart, what are you doing here?" He thought, It's not like Percival to return at this hour.

"I wrapped up everything and came to check on you. How are you holding up?" Percival asked, his worry apparent.

Odalys poured a glass of water for Callum.

"Thank you, Mrs. Stewart," Callum said, taking the glass. After sipping, he placed the cup on the table and met Percival's gaze.

"My injury isn't too bad, but I can't remember how it happened," he confessed. "I do recall we were looking into someone named Simpson, and the more we dug, the more things didn't add up. All the leads pointed to the Simpson family."

"We also discovered that Francis's ex-fiancée and other women with similar stories were all connected to someone named Simpson."