Sinclair glanced at the incoming call, his expression unreadable.
A faint, enigmatic smile played at the corners of his thin lips.
At least he knows his place.
Camilla frowned slightly at the name flashing on the screen, her fair brow creasing.
Did something unexpected happen?"
Of course, she was referring to Stephen’s leg condition.
"Don’t overthink it," Sinclair’s voice was low and languid, yet carried an undercurrent of chill.
"Sinclair’s only making this call to show his sincerity about the cohabitation arrangement."
With that, he pressed the answer button and put the call on speaker.
"President Luther," Stephen’s voice, gentle yet frail, came through the phone.
"There’s something I forgot to mention earlier."
Speaking with calm composure, he laid out every detail of Mrs. Mega’s covert schemes against Camilla.
Hearing this, Camilla curled her lips slightly.
Her stunningly beautiful face remained utterly unperturbed.
With the bitter lessons from her past life, she had long stopped placing any faith in human nature.
No expectations meant no disappointments.
Sinclair’s cool voice held a trace of composed amusement.
"Thank you for the heads-up, President Mega."
His unhurried tone betrayed neither surprise nor fluctuation.
As expected—Sinclair had known all along.
Stephen pressed his lips together, feeling a flicker of relief that he’d made this call.
"The faction she’s connected with happens to be one I’m familiar with," he said, clearing his throat with a feigned cough before continuing.
"I’ll have someone send the detailed files to you, President Luther."
Stephen paused, then added with deliberate sincerity, "If there’s anything you need help with, don’t hesitate to ask."
The offer was as far as he could go—both in posture and goodwill.
Sinclair responded with a low, indifferent hum before abruptly ending the call.
Beside him, Camilla’s crimson lips curved slightly, her gentle voice laced with a chilling undertone. Stephen had made it crystal clear.
It was Madam Mega who had taken action—not the entire Mega.
"Seems the Mega family’s main house has differing opinions," she mused.
"Doesn’t matter if they do." Sinclair reached out, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear with slow, deliberate fingers.
His gaze remained steady, utterly absorbed—as if she were the only thing in his world at that moment.
"The outcome will be the same." His voice was calm, but beneath it lay a bone-deep frost that sent shivers down the spine.
The downfall of the Mega family was sealed the moment they set their sights on Camilla. ——
Meanwhile, in San Francisco.
At a renowned children’s hospital.
"Miss Violet," The butler spoke in a low, polite yet distant tone as he addressed Voilet.
"A suitable bone marrow match will arrive within three days," The butler continued methodically.
"The transplant schedule and all subsequent arrangements have been finalized.
The hospital has assigned a dedicated team to oversee everything."
Voilet’s eyes trembled slightly upon hearing the butler’s words, a thin layer of moisture welling up uncontrollably in their depths.
She tightened her grip on her own arm, the faint sting of pain suppressing the lump rising in her throat.
She had to fulfill last night’s promise—to tell him everything she knew.
And, of course... to see him one more time.
A shadow flickered across her eyes as if she had thought of something painful.
"Sir is away on a business trip—he’s not in San Francisco," the butler replied, his sharp gaze taking in every nuance of Voilet’s expression.
"Before leaving, he specifically instructed that if you had anything to say, you could relay it directly to me."
Not in San Francisco.
Voilet bit her lower lip.
There was no question about the butler’s loyalty to Taylor—telling him the information would be no issue.
But... was Taylor really unwilling to see her even once?
Noticing Voilet’s silence as she remained lost in thought, the butler raised his voice slightly to regain her attention.
"If Miss Violet has any doubts, I can contact the boss for you and let him explain personally."
I don’t have any doubts," Voilet snapped out of her reverie, forcing a strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Her voice carried a chill.
"But this isn’t the right place to talk."
The butler gave a respectful nod.
Please follow me, Miss Violet."
With a slight nod of agreement, Voilet trailed behind him.
They walked in single file into a spacious office specially prepared by the hospital.
The Taylor family bodyguards who had accompanied them took positions outside the door, ensuring no one could approach.
"This location is completely secure," the butler said as he poured tea for Voilet, remaining standing rather than taking a seat himself.
"Miss Violet may speak freely."
Voilet cradled the teacup in her hands, the scalding heat turning her fingertips red.
Yet she seemed oblivious to the discomfort. "Kenny".
She gazed at the curling steam rising from her tea, her voice calm and detached.
"The mole I know of, the one hidden by Taylor’s side, is Kenny."
The butler had spent decades in the Taylor household, long accustomed to masking his true emotions.
Yet at this moment, his expression instantly hardened.
When he first heard the news from his boss, he had mentally begun sifting through potential suspects, bracing himself for the possibility that the traitor could be anyone.
But hearing the name aloud still sent a chill down his spine.
Kenny had been handpicked by the late master from an obscure branch of the Taylor family, groomed to serve as Mr. Taylor’s right-hand man.
Over the years, he had indeed proven himself indispensable, handling numerous critical tasks.
Mr. Taylor trusted him implicitly.
If he truly was the mole, the Taylor family was headed for a storm of blood and chaos.
The butler pressed his lips together, then turned to Voilet.
"Miss Violet, do you have any proof?"
His tone wasn’t accusatory—merely cautious.
After all, given Kenny’s standing and the trust he commanded, mere words wouldn’t be enough to condemn him.
Voilet spotted the computer nearby and walked straight toward it without hesitation.
She connected her phone to the device, navigating through layers of passwords to unlock an audio file buried deep within.
Finally, she watched as the butler pressed the play button.
"That woman is lying to us—she never laid a finger on Taylor."
"We have to get rid of her, or she’ll ruin everything sooner or later."
"Has Taylor noticed anything suspicious?"
"Relax. No matter what, that sickly fool would never suspect me." ...
The familiar voices echoed through the recording.
The butler clenched his jaw, his expression darkening with each passing second.
Finally, he pulled out the phone he used exclusively to communicate with Taylor.
Please send me the file, Miss Violet."
"Of course," Voilet nodded and began transferring the data.
She had left the evidence precisely for Taylor’s sake.
While the files were transferring, she glanced up at the butler.
"Uncle, when... when will Taylor be back?"
Once Ace’s surgery was successful, they would likely have to leave San Francisco again.
Whether they could return or see him once more would be an uphill battle.
"It’s unclear," the butler replied, his expression softening with sympathy, though he chose to be honest.
"This time, Mr. Taylor left to deal with an arranged marriage set by his family. the butler didn’t specify when he’d return."
Voilet froze in place, unable to move for what felt like an eternity.