Chapter 581 A Father’s Resolve

Russell knew it – whatever end he met, he deserved it. He’d made peace with that.

But this time was different.

This time, he had to rise as a true father and shield his daughter–no more hesitation.

He needed to make up his mind.

“Dad…”

“Wade, don’t tell your mom about this yet. No need to worry Blair. She should be focusing on her rehab right now. Things haven’t reached the point of no return. Let’s wait and see for now.”

“Okay.”

Still, Wade had made his own decision too.

To protect Tilda’s life.

As her brother, he would stake everything–even if it meant turning against Jude himself.

Meanwhile, in the dressing room at Austin Hotel.

Tilda had no idea what was going on in Russell and Wade’s minds.

She was busy finishing Dane’s makeup.

She leaned back, checked her work, and smiled with satisfaction.

“There, take a look, Dane. Do you like it?”

She’d kept it light and clean, which made his sharp features stand out even more.

Even without a smile, with every feeling locked deep inside, years of silence left faint stiffness in his face.

His looks were almost too much to take in. When he pressed his lips together and gazed into the distance, he carried a kind of wisdom that no ordinary person could ever overshadow.

His eyes brimmed with the cosmos itself, holding stories and visions far beyond ordinary sight.

“Tilda… it looks good,” Dane said, his hoarse voice softened by warmth.

“I’m glad you like it. Now, put on your suit. I’ll fix your tie. You’re the star tonight!”

“Can you believe Liam? The guy saw the crowd and bolted to his room to sleep. Total social phobe.”

She laughed as she pulled out a tailored black suit and a tie dotted with tiny blue stars, all while grumbling about Liam.

“I didn’t really want to come either…”

Dane gave a helpless shrug.

He was never one for parties.

The government preferred he kept a low profile anyway–someone like him, a top scientist, wasn’t supposed to be in the spotlight.

But the launch of Cetherland’s first 4nm chip lithography machine had shaken the world.

He couldn’t avoid it this time.

“Don’t worry, I’m right here. I’ll play bodyguard and spokesperson. It’s just one night—you’ll survive.”

Her smile lit up the room, playful and confident.

Dane reached out and ruffled her hair. He didn’t need words. The gesture said it all.

“I’m counting on you, Tilda.”

Austin Hotel, main hall.

Guests mingled and laughed, glasses clinking.

Russell moved through the crowd, catching up with business partners, his voice lively.

Then, out of nowhere, a figure appeared beside him.

Russell’s eyes went wide. “Mr. Oliveson? What brings you here?”

It was Sheldon Oliveson–the owner of the Morloss Hotel in Endralsia, head of Oliveson Group, and the man who controlled the lifeblood of Endralsia’s oil economy.

Back when Hotel Morloss was taken hostage by terrorists, he had been there too. He’d even crossed paths with the Jenson family, and they’d gotten along well.

Sheldon showed up now in a deep red tailored suit, a pin gleaming on his chest. He lifted a glass of ’82 Lafite and smiled. “What’s this, Mr. Jenson? You’re allowed here, but I’m not? Hmm?”

“Of course not,” Russell said quickly. “I just didn’t expect to run into you here. Endralsia is a long way from Dugan, isn’t it?”

“Far or not, I had to come! When the country takes the trouble to invite me to witness this lithography team up close, that’s an honor for the nation. How could I stay away?”

Sheldon was known everywhere as a patriotic entrepreneur, even more so because he lived overseas.

For years, he had poured countless sums of money, shipments of supplies, equipment, and scientists back into Cetherland–beyond measure.

In his youth, he had gone to the front lines himself, braving bullets and cannon fire, manning planes and artillery for the motherland.

He’d been awarded Cetherland’s Medal of Peace and Patriotism, honored in the grand hall itself.

Wherever he walked, respect rose unbidden.

Not just for his wealth and power, but for the patriot’s heart that stirred all who met him.

“This time, Mr. Jenson, I came looking for you,” Sheldon said, lowering his voice. “There’s something I’d like to ask.”

“Tilda Jenson … she’s your daughter, isn’t she?”

Tilda?

Russell and Wade both stiffened at the name.

Why would Sheldon suddenly bring her up?

Russell answered carefully, “Yes, Mr. Oliveson. Tilda is my daughter. May I ask what business you have with her?”

“Mr. Jenson, could we step aside for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Russell shot Wade a quick look.

Wade gave a small nod.

Then Russell followed Sheldon to the round window ledge, wine glass in hand.

Outside, the moonlight poured across the fountain, the endless lawn, and the brilliant lights glittering over it all.