Chapter 630 Weird Man

Theo muttered under his breath as he half-dragged Darell toward the nearest hospital.

They couldn’t risk going to just any clinic–only one of the Woodward Group’s private hospitals would do. If anyone snapped a picture of Darell looking like this, it would explode into scandal.

Truth was, Theo wanted nothing to do with Darell. All he wanted was to go home, collapse on the couch, and sleep for twelve hours straight. But if he ditched him now and Darell pulled something even more reckless… Well, he didn’t need that kind of trouble. He sighed in frustration. What a nightmare. If I’d known today would turn out like this, I would’ve stayed home and played video games.

Darell kept his mouth shut and didn’t resist as Theo hauled him along. After all, Theo was Tilda’s friend, and she’d told him directly to make sure Darell got home safe.

Normally, Darell would’ve insisted on patching himself up.

But this time, he held back. He knew Tilda would only worry if he fought it, and he didn’t want to add to her stress.

Besides, showing up at the Jenson estate like this was out of the question–he needed an excuse that made sense.

The next morning at 9 a.m. sharp, Tilda arrived alone at Serenity Abbey on the outskirts of Slosa.

It wasn’t pilgrimage season, so the place was quieter than usual.

The city of Slosa had a massive abbey downtown, always thick with incense and jammed with tourists and worshippers.

But Tilda hated noise. On Una’s advice, she chose a smaller abbey in the countryside–lively enough to feel welcoming, but not overwhelming.

She didn’t really believe in God, but she had a “better safe than sorry” mindset. After the chaos of the past weeks, she wanted somewhere to breathe, pray, and clear the shadows from her mind.

April air in the Slosa hills was still cool and sharp.

She wore a sporty jacket over jeans, white sneakers, and tied her hair into a neat ponytail as she started up the hill.

Half an hour later, she reached the abbey gates.

Dong…

The bell tolled, slow and sonorous.

Step by step, she climbed the stone stairway, passing crimson walls and a gold plaque reading Serenity Abbey. Smoke curled from a great bronze incense burner, carrying a faint fragrance on the wind.

Tilda drew in a deep breath, letting the incense mix with the crisp mountain air. The bell’s steady rhythm echoed through the hills, birds darted between the trees, and the rustle of leaves seemed to sweep her thoughts clean.

This was a peace no city could give her. Already, some of her weariness had slipped away.

She walked through the abbey gates, passing young monks in training. Each gave her a polite bow and a quiet, “Peace be with you,” before going on with their chores.

Admiration flickered in her eyes. In a world where so many monasteries had been sold off or commercialized, these monks had chosen humility over comfort and devotion over profit. She’d heard of priests in mansions with luxury cars, but here–in this quiet, timeworn abbey–she saw the dignity of true faith on their faces.

A few young novices peeked out from the shadows, their gray habits hanging loose on small frames, wooden rosaries bouncing at their waists. Their wide-eyed curiosity and round cheeks made her want to laugh and scoop them up.

She smiled, crouched down, and waved. Most of them scattered shyly, but one lingered. After a pause, he folded his hands like he’d seen the others do and murmured, “Peace be with you, sister.”

Tilda reached out and brushed his cheek. It was soft and warm. “You’re precious,” she said gently. “Are you studying here as a novice?”

The boy shook his head. “No, I’m a model. I came for a photo shoot. But there’s a strange man who comes here a lot. After the shoot, he tells us stories.”

“A strange man?”

Tilda frowned, already bristling. She was ready to march over and scold whatever adult had left the kids to wander around unsupervised.

If something happened, or if one of them was taken, it would be too late.

Just then, a voice called, “Nick, don’t run off!”

“Mr. Bell!”

Nick Lynch’s face lit up, and he darted toward the voice with a grin.

Tilda turned sharply, ready to confront “Mr. Bell,” furious at the thought of someone so careless.

But when the man’s face came into view, she froze.

“Wait… Devin?!”

It was Jude’s biological father.

Even Devin looked taken aback that anyone had recognized him.

He had stayed under the radar in the Bells for over 20 years and was basically invisible.

The outside world had long forgotten Devin, once the fourth son of the Bells.