Wallace Argent’s cloudy eyes stared heavily at her, his lips pressed into a thin, stern line. The wrinkles on his face seemed deeper, his gray hair neatly combed, back straight in a light-gray Mao suit. Though aged, he still looked vigorous, with traces of his past fierceness lingering between his brows. One could even see a hint of Kieran Argent in his eyes and brow. No—it was Kieran Argent who carried Wallace Argent’s shadow. Truly the child Wallace raised.

After a moment, Wallace Argent spoke in a low, gravelly voice: “Why should I believe you’ll really leave Kieran? I can’t guarantee you won’t come back for him or keep pestering him after I help you go.”

Alarieka Huston had expected this. She smiled faintly: “I can’t give solid proof for what you said. So you don’t have to help. But then you’ll just watch Kieran Argent drag me back to the Argent’s villa. By then, you’ll regret not making me leave sooner.”

Her smile stayed faint, eyes calm: “From what I know, Kieran Argent’s almost slipped your control, hasn’t he? How long can you stop him with your elder authority now?”

Wallace Argent’s face darkened, his murky eyes narrowing slightly.

Time was short. Alarieka Huston skipped the chatter. She pulled out her phone and tapped the fresh recording. Wallace Argent’s gaze followed her movements to the screen. Familiar voices spilled from the speaker. Kieran Argent and her own.

“I’ll have someone talk to the school. Dropping out? Don’t even think about it.”

“Don’t try tricks. I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll have eyes here.”

Two jarring sentences. Alarieka Huston caught the odd flicker in Wallace Argent’s eyes when he heard them. The recording ended. Alarieka Huston calmly put her phone away.

“Wallace, you heard. Kieran Argent won’t let me go. He’ll send someone tomorrow. Will you watch this disgraceful adopted daughter return, or help me leave for good? Alone, I can’t escape Kieran Argent’s grip. Without your help, I’ll be dragged back.”

“Now, I’ll give you five minutes. When time’s up, I need your answer—yes or no.” She tapped her screen, setting a five-minute timer. Waving the phone at Wallace Argent, she said: “Countdown starts now.” She placed the phone on the table, clear eyes meeting Wallace Argent’s intense gaze without flinching.

Wallace Argent’s cloudy eyes sized her up. He picked up his teacup and took a sip.

Four minutes remained. In those four minutes, Alarieka Huston’s mind raced through calculations of her plan’s viability. If Wallace Argent helped her, everything would go much smoother. But if Wallace Argent refused—

“Alaricka,” Wallace suddenly spoke, his voice gravelly and low.

Alarieka lifted her gaze to meet his. Wallace’s eyes held a trace of pity as he regarded her.

He said, “Kieran raised you for years. It truly refined you. Now, you bear no resemblance to the girl who first entered the Argent family.”

That Alaricka Huston, newly arrived at the Argent estate, had been timid and self-deprecating. She kept her head bowed, her voice a mere whisper. Standing there, she seemed almost invisible—as if a raised voice might shatter her, the slightest disturbance leaving her flustered and lost, a picture of pitiable fragility.

The old Alaricka couldn’t meet his eyes. But the current Alarieka stood unwavering, calm and composed. She held herself as his equal, confidently and coolly analyzing pros and cons, negotiating terms. No trace remained of that timid, pitiable creature.

Wallace chuckled dryly. “Truthfully, had your social standing matched Kieran’s, I’d have given you a chance with him. Perhaps the woman set to marry Kieran now would be you, not Roschelle Whitaker.”

At the mention of Roschelle Whitaker, Wallace’s eyes narrowed.