Felicia said, “I’ll cover their payment.” Before the plane landed, the employment notice had been sent. With a considerable sum of money offered, many were eager to accept the task. Ultimately, six individuals were chosen. Among them were two Felicia recognized from a previous mission alongside Scarlet—a small, thin man codenamed Monkey, and a larger man wielding a spiked club, codenamed Big Guy. The other four were also seasoned mercenaries, all well-known to Scarlet. “Don’t worry, boss,” she said. “These people are specialists. They’re pros at covert investigations and will get results quickly.”
“Alright,” Felicia replied, closing her eyes and leaning back.
Meanwhile, at the Russell residence in Seldvale, Imogen felt a nagging unease; her right eye had been twitching since she woke. Rubbing her eye, she couldn't shake the feeling that something ominous was about to happen. After summoning another maid, she inquired about Stephan’s condition, as was her routine.
The maid replied, “Mr. Russell hasn’t woken yet, but the doctor says his condition is stable. The toxins are gradually dissipating. Aside from his blindness, his body is recovering well.”
“That’s good,” Imogen sighed in relief, instructing the maid to bring her child.
Caleb Russell was well-behaved. After finishing his milk, he gurgled occasionally and blew bubbles. His body exuded a milky scent. Imogen held him, kissing him gently. “Caleb…”
The little one giggled, waving his tiny hands and feet. The maid smiled. “Babies grow so quickly! I still remember how wrinkled he looked at birth. Now, he’s so handsome and adorable!”
Imogen stroked her baby’s head. She wished she could see him clearly. Did he resemble her or his father? Just then, a maid burst in, excitedly shouting, “Ms. Russell! There’s news! Big news!”
Imogen frowned. The maid clamped her mouth shut, but her excitement was evident. Lowering her voice, she said, “Ms. Russell, Mr. Rosario is back! He’s returned alive!”
Imogen’s hands trembled as she held her startled, wailing child. Ignoring his cries, she pressed, “What did you say? Who’s back? Repeat that!”
Was it who she thought? Could it really be him?
The maid nodded furiously. “Ms. Russell, you heard me! He’s back! Mr. Rosario! Mr. Archie Rosario! He’s alive and just arrived at the villa. He’s probably on his way upstairs now!”
“Really?” Imogen was overwhelmed with joy—the kind that comes from regaining something lost, a hope long extinguished, reignited. Tears streamed down her face as she handed the crying baby to the maid. Ignoring her postpartum weakness, she forced herself out of bed and rushed outside, shoes forgotten. “Where’s Archie? I want to see him!”