"Bang—!"

Before the kidnapper could push the plunger all the way down, his head exploded!

A dozen fully armed mercenaries kicked through every window in the warehouse.

Amidst the smoke and gunpowder, a tall figure walked in, backlit by the light. He wore a black tactical trench coat, the tight fit accentuating his muscular build. His face was cold as a demon's. It was Valerius Sterling.

He kicked the kidnapper leader, who was trying to crawl away, sending him flying. Then he rushed to me. "I'm sorry, I'm late." His voice was low and raspy, carrying a tremor that was hard to detect.

Looking at Valerius's determined profile, my tightly wound nerves suddenly snapped. My vision went black, and I completely lost consciousness.

"Alaric..." I sat up abruptly, my heart pounding wildly.

Valerius, who was guarding my bedside, gently held my shoulders. "Don't move, Ivy. Alaric is fine. The antivenom was administered in time. Although there are residual toxins that need to metabolize, he is out of danger."

He continued, "Your body is very weak due to long-term overwork and excessive blood loss. You need rest."

This warmth broke down my defenses. I covered my face, tears sliding down silently.

On the day of my discharge, I refused Valerius's offer to take me to a hotel and insisted on going back to that basement in Brooklyn.

Valerius didn't stop me; he just silently supported me.

Back in that Brooklyn basement, I dragged a huge black trash bag out from under the bed and started frantically stuffing things into it.

I dug out every "gift" Caspian had bestowed upon me over the past five years, counting his disgusting behavior item by item:

This coat—Isolde threw it away because she thought the color was tacky. He picked it up and gave it to me, claiming it was "vintage."

This scarf—a freebie he got for filling up his gas tank. He turned around and gave it to me as my twenty-fourth birthday present.

And this pile of three-for-ten-dollars cheap T-shirts that started pilling after one wash. He lied to me, saying they were from a niche designer brand.

Looking at this room full of junk, I felt that my last five years had simply been a joke.

"Trash belongs in the trash can."

After doing all this, I took Alaric and our only identification documents and left the cage that had trapped me for five years without looking back.

Late that night.

Caspian returned to the basement reeking of alcohol. He seemed to be in a good mood, carrying an exquisite cake box in his hand.

Inside was a piece of cake with a corner scooped out—leftovers Isolde had eaten at the banquet.

"Ivy? Alaric?" He called out, his tone filled with the arrogance of charity. "You guys are lucky. Isolde said this cake was too sweet and she was afraid of getting fat, so she specifically asked me to bring it back for Alaric to taste. This is a Michelin three-star cake; people like you would never see this in your lives."

However, what greeted him was an empty, deathly silent room.

The closet was empty, the washstand was empty, and even those broken toys Alaric usually treated like treasures were gone.

The only thing left on the table was the divorce agreement I had already signed.

Caspian froze for a moment, then let out a dismissive sneer. He tossed the leftover cake onto the table casually, smashing it into a mess.

"The same old trick."

He kicked the chair next to him, his face full of impatience. "The kidnapping act didn't get you any money, so now you're playing the runaway game? Ivy, your methods are getting lower and lower. Do you think that by running away with a sick child, I'll beg you to come back?"

He was certain I couldn't leave him. In New York, where every inch of land costs a fortune, a woman like me with no money, no background, and a weak child would hit a dead end without him.

He took out his phone and carelessly typed a text message, a mocking curve hanging on his lips:

"Where are you wandering off to with that burden? Don't expect me to search the world for you. When you run out of money, crawl back yourself. Don't expect me to pick you up. Also, remember to apologize to Isolde; you almost ruined her birthday party."

However, the message failed to send.

I had already deleted all his contact information.

Caspian dialed my number in disbelief.

"Sorry, the user you are calling is busy..."

He called again.

"Sorry, the user you are calling..."

A panic he had never felt before finally rose like a delayed tide, slowly drowning his consistently arrogant heart.

He slammed his phone violently against the wall, his roar echoing in the empty basement:

"Ivy! You have some nerve! How dare you block me?!"

Unfortunately, he didn't know.

This time, I really didn't want him anymore.

Valerius's private Gulfstream G650 pierced through the clouds, heading toward the other side of the ocean.

Alaric was curled up in the leather seat, clutching the brand-new drawing board Valerius had just given him. He didn't cry or make a fuss, but his eyes still held the lingering panic of a survivor.

"Mommy, where exactly are we going?" He lifted his small head, a patch of gauze still taped to it, and looked out at the endless sea of clouds with confusion.

I squeezed his cold little hand, my voice gentle but firm. "Alaric, Uncle Valerius is taking us to Sicily. There is sunshine, vineyards, and a new home just for us."

"Sicily?" Alaric lowered his head, his long lashes trembling. "Can Daddy still find us there? If he can't find us, will he be mad?"

Hearing the child mention "Daddy," my heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, releasing a sour wave of guilt.

I pulled him into my arms and wiped the tear stains from the corners of his eyes. "Alaric, forget him. From today on, you don't need to try to please anyone. Mommy will make sure you get the finest gentleman's education. You will grow up to be a real man, not a hypocritical coward like him."

After a flight of over ten hours, we landed at a private airport in Palermo.

A black Rolls-Royce drove us along the winding coastline, finally pulling into an ancient manor hidden deep within olive groves.

I carried the sleeping Alaric out of the car. The evening breeze of Sicily, carrying the scent of sea salt, brushed against my face, stirring up memories I had sealed away long ago.

"Do you remember this scent?" Valerius walked up to me and handed me an exquisitely crafted paintbrush. "Ivy, this is where your dreams began. Five years ago, you clipped your own wings for that man and stopped painting. Now, it's time to pick them up again."

I took the brush, my fingertips trembling slightly.

Yes, five years ago.

Back then, as the most talented student at the art academy, I gave up a full scholarship to study in Paris just to be with Caspian. I even cut ties with the foster parents who had adopted me, willing to become a lowly housekeeper by his side.

My foster mother had cried and cursed me over the phone. "Ivy, are you crazy? That man doesn't care about you at all. You're giving up a bright future for him. You'll regret this sooner or later!"

But I was stubborn, thinking that as long as I stayed by Caspian's side, I could eventually warm his heart of stone.

Who knew that aside from Isolde, Caspian wouldn't love anyone? He was even willing to send his own flesh and blood to a lab for Isolde's child!

"Caspian..." I hugged Alaric tighter, the last bit of warmth in my eyes completely extinguished. I would never forgive him!

Valerius saw the hatred in my eyes and sighed softly. But what he said next was like a thunderclap exploding in my ears.

"Ivy, there are things you need to know. You always thought you were abandoned, but you weren't."

He pointed to the massive family crest on the manor gates—it was identical to the pattern on the rusty brooch my mother had left me!

"You are the only lost bloodline of the Magnus family, a reclusive European financial dynasty on par with the Rothschilds," Valerius said, his voice deep and powerful. "Decades ago, enemies of the Magnus family kidnapped you during the chaos. And your mother... she was the love of Mr. Magnus's life."

I was too shocked to speak.

"Go in," Valerius pushed open the heavy oak doors. "He's waiting for you."

Walking through the corridor lined with masterpieces, I saw an old man in a wheelchair in the study at the end of the hall.

Although his hair was silver, his eyes were still as sharp as a hawk's—the kind of imposing presence developed from years of sitting in a high position.

"My child..." When that familiar yet strange voice reached me, I couldn't hold back anymore. Tears burst from my eyes.

"Father."

Magnus looked at my tear-stained face, and then at Alaric in my arms, who was frowning even in his sleep, covered in wounds.

"..." Alaric was woken by the noise. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked at the majestic old man in front of him.

"Is this... my grandson?" Magnus reached out a trembling hand, stroking the shocking needle marks and bruises on Alaric's arm—traces left by the kidnappers, and proof of Caspian's cold-bloodedness.

The old man's hand shook violently, and the kindness in his eyes instantly turned into a monstrous rage.

"Bastard!" He slammed his hand on the armrest, his voice echoing in the empty study. "That piece of trash named Caspian dared to torture my daughter and grandson like this!"

"Father, I..." I choked up, overcome with shame. "I was a poor judge of character..."

"No, this isn't your fault." Magnus pulled my hand over, looking at my rough knuckles and the rope burns on my wrists, his eyes reddening. "We let you suffer out there. But from today on, no one will dare to bully you again."

He turned his head and issued a cold order to the butler behind him, his tone carrying an unquestionable dominance.

"Mobilize our global resources. Immediately erase every trace of Ivy and Alaric in New York from the last few years. I want that man to turn the world upside down and not be able to find a single hair on their heads!"

"Also," the old man's eyes turned dark and dangerous, "get everything ready. Since that scumbag likes to play games with power and money, I'll show him what real capital looks like."

I looked at my father's angry profile, and a long-lost warmth surged in my heart.

It turned out I wasn't an unwanted weed after all.

I lowered my head and gently kissed Alaric's forehead. "Baby, don't be afraid. From now on, no one can ever hurt us again."