Chapter 92: Allison had thought a lot about her decision to live near Muisvedo. If he really wanted to revive the hacker network, this was the right place. However, with all the danger and shadows clinging to that world, the last thing he wanted to do was drag Rebecca into it. The smart thing was to rent a place nearby, preferably from someone trusted, to ensure nothing was known about her presence.

Kellan raised an eyebrow. "Muisvedo? Sure, it's lively, but it's also a madhouse. Not exactly a safe haven."

Muisvedo was the liveliest neighborhood in Ontdale, full of laughter and music during the day, but transformed into a playground for all kinds of people at night. The sheer mix of people, especially those linked to the underworld, made it a breeding ground for danger and unpredictability.

"But," Kellan added with a satisfied smile, "I have an apartment there. Security is top-notch, so your safety is covered. If you're interested."

"And the rent?" Allison joked, smiling playfully. "I have to see if I can afford it."

Kellan shrugged nonchalantly, almost theatrically. "Three hundred a month. The usual price."

Allison didn't know the details of the apartment, but she knew perfectly well that any Kellan property would be worth much more. The favor was obvious, but he took it in stride and smiled as he responded, "Thank you, Mr. Lloyd."

"It seems I'm lucky enough to be able to afford it."

Kellan smiled back, but his expression was layered. Beneath her calm demeanor, Allison was like a wolf in sheep's clothing, her capable nature hidden behind an innocent façade. Both she and Kellan were fully aware of the unspoken game between them, each carefully concealing their true motives.

Meanwhile, Lorna remained lost in her little bubble, oblivious to the changing dynamics around her. The old butler's eyes were wide open, somewhere between astonished and incredulous. Kellan had just made an astonishing offer—30% of the Charisma company, into which he had invested blood, sweat, and years—but Allison had politely rejected it.

However, now Kellan had upped the ante, offering her a fortified apartment in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods for a real bargain. But the butler quickly understood what was stirring in Kellan's heart.

"Miss Clarke, you may not realize it, but Mr. Lloyd is quite the catch," he said. "He has been a gentleman from the cradle, and he knew how to cook even before he could spell. Whoever marries him will never suffer hardship," the butler said with a knowing smile.

"Mind your plate," Kellan interrupted, clearing his throat in mild irritation. "You don't need to go around saying those things."

Allison, amused, decided to tease him. "So, Mr. Lloyd, your cooking skills aren't just a rare talent. You've been working on them since you were barely out of diapers. I couldn't help but imagine a tiny Kellan, barely able to see over the kitchen counter, standing on tiptoe to cook. What face would he have made then? He might have been as aloof in childhood as he seems now."

Kellan shook his head. "It's not really that big of a deal."

But just as the words left his lips, a sudden jolt of familiar agony shot through his head like a bolt of lightning splitting the sky. His hands balled into tight fists, knuckles white from the pressure, and the veins on his forehead stood out as if trying to escape his skin. "All of you… go on without me… I just need…" Before he could finish, the pain hit him harder, his fists clenching as if he could physically crush the migraine. He began to sweat, and his breathing became labored, as if his body was fighting against an invisible force.

The butler, shocked, dropped his fork with a crash. "Mr. Lloyd!" he gasped. "What's going on?"

Allison jumped to her feet, her previous joviality giving way to genuine concern. Kellan had seemed perfectly fine just moments ago, so this sudden change left her bewildered.

"Mr. Lloyd suffers from severe neurogenic migraines," the butler explained, his voice shaking with panic. "He has had them for years, and nothing seems to help him." The condition had long defied any medication, and even private doctors could only give him temporary relief through sedatives.

Seeing Kellan in pain tore at the butler's heartstrings, and he froze, his eyes wide with terror. Lorna, though silent, sensed that something was terribly wrong. Her eyes widened with concern, and she stared at Kellan, her hands waving in a gesture of helpless uncertainty. Although she couldn't find the words, her tears made her concern for him unmistakable.

Allison, seeing Lorna's distress, gently stroked her back to calm her. Then, in a firm but calm voice, she addressed the butler, Jim Pierce. "Please take Lorna upstairs and call the doctor. I'll stay with him."