CHAPTER 422: CHAPTER 422 HOPE

At the same time, far away in a quiet mansion, an empty music room lay wrapped in soft darkness. The only light came from a thin stream slipping through the white curtains, bathing the wooden floor in a pale glow. Theo sat alone on a stool, his fingers gliding slowly across the strings of his guitar. His head bowed, his brown hair falling slightly over his eyes, he played as if the melody was something he could not stop himself from feeling. The gentle sound filled the dark room, warm and lonely at the same time.

"Sir...? Master is calling you!" a maid’s voice called from outside the door.

Theo exhaled sharply, the kind of sigh he only gave when someone interrupted him mid-song. He placed the guitar on the empty chair beside him, brushing his thumb lightly over the strings one last time before standing up.

"What now..." he muttered, annoyed, as he opened the door.

"Sir, Master is calling you," the maid repeated, bowing quickly.

Theo rolled his eyes but walked toward his father’s study anyway. He pushed open the door and leaned his shoulder against the frame. "You called me?"

His father, a well-known artist with tired brown eyes and hair a few shades darker, looked up from a stack of papers. He always carried an aura of heaviness around him, a sadness that never seemed to leave.

"Yes," the old man said, his voice low. "It’s something... related to your mother."

Theo’s entire expression changed. His annoyance vanished in an instant, replaced by disbelief and something bright—hope. "Mom?" he breathed, stepping closer. "You found her?"

His father nodded slowly. "Yes... but she lost her memory. Completely. And she... she has a daughter." His voice sounded painful.

Theo froze.

A daughter?

A sister?

But something else struck him harder—the mention of memory loss. His mom... alive but not remembering him... it felt like a knife stabbing his heart.

"But," his father continued, "from the investigation, we learned she has no man in her life. None. She fell severely ill. Her daughter is the one working to support her. And... I found some other related information too."

Theo couldn’t breathe for a moment. Memories of his mother flashed in his mind–a warm smile, a gentle voice telling him bedtime stories. He had lost her when he was four after an accident. His father had spent years searching for her, but he never found her. And he and his father grew distant from each other.

"So why did you call me?" Theo demanded, voice thick. "You should have told Mom about us immediately. Let’s go! Where is she?"

"Calm down, boy," his father snapped softly. "She doesn’t remember us. Not a trace. I don’t understand how she didn’t even recover a little after so many years..."

Theo clenched his jaw but stayed silent.

"Her daughter," his father continued, "is working under Archer Wyatt. Her name is Freya."

Theo’s breath hitched.

Freya.

He grabbed the photo his father slid across the desk. A young girl, maybe eighteen, stood in the picture with nervous eyes and cheap clothes, trying to smile.

"She’s just a child," the old man said with a heavy sigh. "Working under that monster. And I also heard that Alexa DeLuna tortures anyone she dislikes."

Theo’s expression darkened instantly.

"Alexa..." he muttered, teeth clenched. He remembered her face too well. The same woman who tormented Bella...

His fists tightened around the photo, but then he looked at Freya again.

His sister.

His half-sister.

Someone he had never known existed.

A warm, protective feeling blossomed in his chest.

"So," he whispered, eyes sharpening with a determined glow, "it’s time to return to City A."

His father nodded.

For a moment, Theo wondered what Bella was doing at that exact second. He imagined her cheerful, cute face, her bright smile, and he felt strangely excited.

That girl better not have stopped playing guitar after I left...

He already planned to scold her gently when he saw her.

He tucked the photo into his pocket and walked out of the room with a new fire in his eyes.

As Leo leaned back against the car seat, Bella was curled beside him, completely exhausted after hours of shopping. Her head rested softly on his arm, her breathing slow and warm, her hand still loosely holding the corner of his sleeve as if she refused to let go even in sleep.

He brushed a thumb over her hair, watching her with quiet tenderness, when suddenly—

Ding.

Bella’s phone lit up in his hand.

Leo glanced down lazily... until he saw the message on the screen.

How are you doing?

Leo’s eyes narrowed immediately.

The profile picture was of a guy standing with his back to the sun, the orange evening light falling across his shoulders, making his figure glow dramatically. His posture was tall, confident, almost artistic. The kind of photo that looked like someone had taken it intentionally to look attractive.

Leo’s gaze darkened.

Bella had not saved the contact.

He stared at the name: Unknown number.

Another message popped up.

I hope you didn’t abandon practice after I left. I hope you are still improving your skills. Don’t be lazy, Bella.

Another.

I will be in City A soon Leo clenched his jaw.

The phone showed more messages, but he couldn’t open them without the password. Only the previews flashed on the screen, each one making his brows lower further.

He looked down at Bella, sleeping so peacefully.

Leo’s thumb hovered over the message thread... then slowly dropped away.

His voice was a whisper, cold and soft, as he muttered to himself,

"Who is this unknown person? Spam or her hacker friend? I don’t know..."

His mind sharpened instantly.

Bella had not saved his name.

He had her number.

He was sending messages comfortably.

He said, I hope you are improving your skills — meaning he knew her personally.

He used her name casually.

And he was coming to City A.

Leo’s eyes narrowed even more.

He had just started enjoying the idea of a quiet ballroom night with Bella, and now some unknown man... someone she didn’t even save in her contacts... was messaging her with familiarity?

Leo looked at the sleeping girl beside him again, his expression softening for a moment... then turning calm and dangerously focused.

He placed her phone gently in his pocket.

"I’ll ask her when she wakes up," he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead.

But his jaw tightened again.

He didn’t like the feeling in his chest.

He didn’t like the photo.

He didn’t like the familiarity.

He didn’t like the timing.

And he especially didn’t like not knowing who the man was.

Leo leaned his head back, eyes still cold.