After the second call was declined, a third rang through. Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie Alexander caught a single word glowing on Grey Ford's phone screen: “Kaiya.” She filed the name away.

Grey silenced the call again, turned the phone face down on the table, and offered Mrs. Hudson an apologetic smile. “Telemarketers. Loan offers.” He shrugged it off like it was nothing.

Mrs. Hudson huffed, clearly not buying it. “You need to steer clear of those wild friends of yours. You're a married man now—time to settle down.”

“Yes, Grandma. I know.” Grey answered like a dutiful grandson.

Their coffee lingered on for nearly an hour. When they finally got up to leave, Mrs. Hudson caught Natalie's hand and wouldn't let go. She pressed a set of car keys into her palm. “The white car at the far end of the garage. It's yours to get around. If Grey tries to make you take the subway, you come tell me.”

Natalie took the keys with a grin.

Outside the main gates, Grey leaned against the car, looking a little sour. “That call,” Natalie said, walking up and tucking the keys into her purse. “Who's Kaiya?”

Grey glanced at her, something complicated flickering across his face. “My cousin.”

“You have a cousin?”

“Cousin,” he repeated, opening the car door. “Kaiya Ford. She's from the main branch. Grew up with my grandma, but... something happened later. She's in a psych hospital now.”

Natalie slid into the passenger seat and buckled up. “What happened?”

Grey started the car. Silence stretched between them. “She said she saw something she shouldn't have,” he finally said, pulling away from the estate. “Four years ago, when I was out cold in Arizona, Kaiya went to Southeast Asia looking for me. She got there before I did and walked right into a secret deal. Ever since, she's been... off. Swears someone's after her. Says invisible people are following her.”

Natalie tapped her fingers lightly against her knee. “Which hospital is she in now?”

“Eastside. Connington Asylum.” Grey cut her a sidelong look. “Why? You want to visit her?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn't.” His tone went hard. “Doctors say she needs rest. Outsiders just set her off—”

“Grey.” Natalie cut him off. “She's your cousin. Aren't you curious about what she actually saw?”

Grey's mouth tightened into a thin line. The car stopped at a red light. His grip on the wheel tightened, then slowly eased. Finally, he let out a resigned whisper. “I've spent four years digging. Found nothing. Every time I visit, she says the same thing—”

“What does she say?”

Grey turned, meeting Natalie's eyes. “She says, ‘Brother, there’s a woman named Alexander, and she’s not human.’”

A heavy silence filled the car for several seconds.

Then Natalie let out a soft laugh. “There are plenty of people named Alexander.” She adjusted the air vent, redirecting the airflow. “Surely you don't think she means me?”

Grey didn't answer. The light turned green, and he shot through the intersection.

Natalie leaned back, watching the city blur past her window. Her fingers moved silently on her knee, tracing a symbol—a Silver Wing internal sign, shaped like a falling feather.

Kaiya Ford. Four years ago. Southeast Asia. Secret deal. She threaded the clues together, sketching a mental line. If Kaiya really saw something she shouldn't have, and the clandestine organization hadn't made her “disappear” all these years, there could only be one reason: whatever Kaiya saw was beyond their control.

So whose was it?

Natalie closed her eyes. This was turning out to be far more intriguing than she'd expected.

When the car stopped at a crossroads, Natalie opened her eyes. “Where to?” Grey asked, fingers drumming softly on the wheel.

“The Alexander Group.”

Grey turned to look at her. “Your dad's place?”

“Yeah. I still have some unfinished business.”

Grey didn't ask more. He flicked on the turn signal and headed toward Alexander Group headquarters.

Silence filled the car for a moment before Grey finally spoke, like he'd been holding it in too long. “That shipment... how much do you know?”

“Which one? The Northern Southeast Asia route or the Eastern Europe line?” Natalie asked offhandedly, fiddling with the air vent. “If you mean the Southeast Asia shipment, your trusted courier “Venom Hornet” was intercepted halfway. There was a mole beside him. Last name Zane, nickname “Fly,” driving the second truck. He took fifty grand from the clandestine organization and sold out the route.”

Grey slammed the brakes so hard the car lurched, earning angry honks from behind. He got back up to speed fast, his expression shifting drastically. “Fly? Zane Pinn? He's been with me seven years—”

“People change,” Natalie said matter-of-factly. “He has a wife and kids. Last year, his daughter was diagnosed with leukemia. Eighty grand for treatment. What you paid him wasn't enough.”

Grey's hands gripped the wheel until his knuckles went white.

“Why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“I only married you last night.” Natalie turned to him, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Were you expecting a full briefing on our wedding night?”

Grey was momentarily speechless—but he couldn't exactly argue. After a beat, he admitted quietly, “That shipment contained vaccines.”

“What?”

“It was disguised as weapons, but it was actually cold-chain vaccines. Communities in Southeast Asia were facing a dengue outbreak. They desperately needed medicine. I sent them through the weapons route for safety, to avoid inspections.”

Natalie went quiet for a moment, reappraising Grey's profile. Morning light streamed through the window, catching the sharp line of his jaw. Those eyes, usually full of mischief, now held a focus she'd never noticed before.

“Those vaccines,” she said, “were taken by the clandestine organization and sold at a markup as ordinary drugs on the local black market. Tripled the price—a single community couldn't afford them.”

Grey's lips pressed tight.

“So your urgency isn't about losing a shipment worth millions.” Natalie's voice softened. “It's the fear that those communities won't get the medicine they need.”

Grey neither confirmed nor denied it.

The car pulled up to the Alexander Group building, and he pulled the handbrake. “Go handle your business. I'll wait here.”

“You're not coming up?”

“I want no part of your family's mess.” Grey replied, a cigarette dangling from his lips, unlit. “I'll be here. Call me if you need anything.”

Natalie got out, but after a few steps, she turned back and tapped on the window. Grey rolled it down. “Cut back on the smoking,” she said. “Your lungs aren't great. You inhaled toxic gas in the rainforest four years ago. Don't think I don't know.”

The cigarette slipped from Grey's lips onto his lap. Natalie was already walking away.

The Alexander Group wasn't a major enterprise, but it was a mid-sized publicly traded company dealing mainly in construction materials and real estate. Over the years, Bella Cunningham and her brother had bled it dry. Polished on the outside, falling apart on the inside.

As Natalie walked into the lobby, the receptionist blinked in surprise, quickly recognizing her. “M-Ms. Alexander?”

“I'm here to see my dad. Is he in?”

“He's in a meeting upstairs...” the receptionist stammered.

“Perfect.” Natalie headed straight for the elevator. “Which meeting room?”

The receptionist followed a few steps. “Twenty-third floor! But Ms. Cunningham is also—”

The elevator doors closed.

On the twenty-third floor, Stephen Alexander was surrounded by a group of board members, sweat beading on his forehead. The Alexander Group had two projects with broken capital chains, and the bank was pressing hard for loan repayments. Bella's brother, Lin Jianye, lounged at the far end of the long table, scrolling through his phone like he didn't have a care in the world.

“Mr. Alexander, if we don't have the funds by next month, we'll have to start bankruptcy proceedings,” said a bespectacled middle-aged board member, adjusting his glasses. “The twelve million pounds promised are accounted for, but there's still a six-million gap. We need a definitive answer from you.”

Stephen wiped his brow. “Give me another week. I'll find a way—”

“I'll handle it.”

The meeting room door swung open.

All heads turned. Natalie stood in the doorway. She wore a Victorian-style dress tailored to modern sensibilities—too gentle, it seemed, for a boardroom. But as her gaze swept over each face, even Lin Jianye sat up straight on instinct.

Stephen was taken aback. “Natalie? How did you—”

“Dad, have a seat.” Natalie moved to the head of the table, set her laptop down, and opened it. “Good afternoon, directors. I'm Natalie Alexander, Stephen's daughter. I have a solution to our current financial shortfall.”

Lin Jianye chuckled. “You? A girl fresh from abroad. Do you even—”

Natalie looked at him.

Her gaze was calm. No different from the one she'd given Grey the night before. Yet it sent a chill down Lin Jianye's spine, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Natalie turned her laptop screen toward the room. “The company's largest losses stem from the Southside development project. The land acquisition evaluation report was ‘optimized.’” She emphasized the word, glancing at Lin Jianye. “In reality, the geological conditions were at least two grades lower than reported. Underground caverns tripled the foundation costs.”

“That's nonsense—”

“Mr. Lin,” Natalie interrupted calmly. “The original engineering assessment report is in your office safe, isn't it? Left side, second compartment. The combination is your daughter's birthday. Shall I have someone retrieve it?”

Lin Jianye paled instantly.

The meeting room erupted in murmurs.

Stephen stood abruptly, glaring at Lin Jianye. “Jianye! Did you tamper with that report?”

“Brother-in-law, let me explain—”

“Enough.” Natalie closed the laptop. “Mr. Lin, the six-million shortfall is the exact amount you ‘borrowed’ from the company's books. Return it within three days, or I'll send the original materials straight to the financial conduct authority. Now, please leave.”

Lin Jianye opened and closed his mouth, then reluctantly left under the watchful eyes of the board members, shooting Natalie a venomous glare as he slammed the door.

The air in the meeting room lightened.

Natalie spent twenty minutes laying out the next steps with unhurried, clear logic. At the meeting's end, several directors approached her, shaking her hand, their eyes holding a newfound respect.

After everyone left, Stephen sat in his chair, his expression torn between pride and confusion. “Natalie,” he called after her, “where did you get those documents?”

Natalie Alexander was sorting through her laptop, not even sparing a glance upward. “Start paying closer attention to the company’s public records, Dad. Then you’ll see. Jonathan is your brother-in-law, but if you keep indulging him, the entire Alexander family is going to pay for it.”

Stephen Alexander went quiet for a moment. Then, out of nowhere: “Is Grey treating you well?”

Natalie looked up and smiled. “He’s been good to me. He even drove me here this morning.”

Stephen hesitated, then finally nodded. “That’s good. Take care of yourself.”

As Natalie left the meeting room, she ran into Bella in the elevator lobby. Her stepmother must have gotten a call from Jonathan, because she came rushing over, her perfectly made-up face twisted with fury as she blocked the elevator doors.

“Natalie Alexander! What do you think you’re doing? Jonathan has given years to this company, and you want to throw him out over one word?”

Natalie pressed the down button, her expression calm. “Lenora, he ‘borrowed’ sixty million from the company and hasn’t paid it back in over a year. Not calling the cops was already a favor.”

“You—” Bella advanced, pointing a manicured finger right at Natalie’s nose. “Let me tell you something, Natalie Alexander. Don’t think marrying into the Ford family makes you untouchable. Everyone knows Grey Ford is nothing but a lazy playboy who spends his time chasing women and gambling. Your marriage is a joke. You think you’ve moved up? Keep dreaming.”

Natalie let her finish, then tilted her head slightly. “Lenora, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

“What?”

“Last year, you opened an account at a Swiss bank,” Natalie said lightly. “It holds about 1.2 million pounds, sourced from the fourth fund your brother siphoned out of the company and moved through an overseas shell company. The account holder’s name is Kaiya Johnston, right?”

Bella’s face turned ashen.

“You—how do you know—”

“I suggest finding a competent financial advisor,” Natalie continued smoothly as the elevator arrived. She stepped inside and turned to face Bella. “That Swiss bank is under investigation for anti-money laundering, and your account has been flagged. I’d move the money fast if I were you. Then again…”

She smiled innocently.

“Where would you move it to? I’ve already flagged every domestic account you can touch. Apart from the Alexander Group’s company account, you can’t access a single penny.”

The elevator doors slid closed.

Bella stood outside, leaning against the wall as if all the strength had drained out of her.

When Natalie walked out of the building, Grey’s car was parked in the same spot. He was in the driver’s seat, smoking—window cracked just enough for him to tap ash into a small box outside, maintaining some semblance of decorum.

She opened the car door and got in.

“All done?” he asked.

“All done.”

Grey stubbed out his cigarette and started the car, then asked again, “Where to?”

Natalie thought for a moment and gave him an address. “Eastside, Connington Asylum. I want to visit Kaiya.”

Grey paused.

“I told you, she’s not really up for visitors—”

“I’m not a visitor.” Natalie fastened her seatbelt. “I’m your wife.”

Grey stared at her for a few seconds. “You really want to go?”

“Really.”

He sighed, tossed the cigarette pack into the glove compartment, and stepped on the accelerator.

It took about forty minutes to drive from the Alexander Group to Connington Asylum.

For the first part of the drive, they didn’t talk much. Grey turned on the stereo, playing classic rock at a low volume—perfect as background music.

Natalie scrolled through her phone. On the Silver Wing channel, “Finley” had sent a new message: “Green Snake and Iron Head were spotted last night on the east side at a nursing home. Be careful, President.”

Her fingers paused.

Eastside.

Nursing home.

Connington?

Without betraying any emotion, she put her phone away and glanced at Grey.

He was focused on the road, his profile sharply defined in the afternoon light. Strong nose bridge. Unusually long lashes for a man.

“Grey,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Who arranged for Kaiya to be at Connington?”

“The family did. The main branch funded it, got her the best specialists.” Grey hesitated. “But I’ve always felt something wasn’t right about that place. Her condition has only gotten worse since she moved in. Two years ago, she could still manage simple conversations. Now she barely speaks at all.”

Natalie tapped her fingers lightly against her knee. “Are there always medical staff with her when you visit?”

“Yeah. There’s always a head nurse named Fane around, monitoring her vitals.”

“Nurse Fane?” Natalie probed. “Tall, slim, in her forties, with a mole on her right eyebrow?”

Grey sharply turned his head. “You know her?”

Natalie didn’t answer. She just turned her gaze back out the window.

“Drive faster.”

Grey sensed the urgency in her tone and didn’t ask more questions. He floored the accelerator.

The car weaved through the afternoon traffic and finally stopped in front of Connington Asylum.

It was a seven-story gray-and-white building, tucked into a quiet neighborhood and surrounded by tall sycamore trees. The leaves, half yellow with autumn’s onset, carpeted the ground.

It looked like any other upscale private facility.

Natalie got out of the car, looking up at the building. Her pupils contracted slightly.

An outsider wouldn’t notice, but she saw it immediately—the subtle reinforcement between the fourth and fifth floors, an added layer of bulletproof steel.

The rooftop air conditioner units were arranged wrong. One was probably a decoy, housing surveillance equipment.

This place masqueraded as a nursing home, but it was really a base of operations.

“Let’s go.” She tugged at Grey’s wrist, leading him inside.

Grey stumbled slightly, glancing down at where she grasped his wrist.

Her grip was strong. Her fingertips were calloused from years of wielding a knife.

The front desk check-in went smoothly. Grey was Kaiya’s direct relative, and Natalie entered the elevator alongside him as ‘family accompaniment.’

The elevator had surveillance. Natalie discreetly checked the camera’s angle, stood in a blind spot, and pulled a small, coin-sized white patch from her bag. She stuck it in the corner of the elevator.

A signal jammer.

“Which floor?” she asked.

“Fifth.” Grey pressed the button.

As the elevator ascended, Natalie noticed the floor display jump from ‘3’ straight to ‘5,’ skipping ‘4.’

She understood now.

The fourth floor was the true core of the building, housing all the unconventional activities, erased from the external indicators.

When they arrived on the fifth floor, the hallway was quiet. The air carried the scent of disinfectant and a faint, medicinal undertone.

At the end of the corridor, in the second-to-last room, stood a woman in a white coat. Mole on her right eyebrow. Slim. In her forties.

Nurse Fane.

“Mr. Ford,” Nurse Fane greeted with a professional smile. “You’re earlier than usual. And this is…?”

“My wife,” Grey introduced.

Nurse Fane’s gaze lingered on Natalie’s face. A flash of something unreadable crossed her eyes before her smile deepened. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Ford. Miss Kaiya is doing okay today. She just took her midday medication and is resting.”

Natalie nodded. “We’d like to see her.”

“Of course. I’ll accompany you both.”

The moment the door to the room opened, Natalie felt something was off.

The room was tidy. Curtains drawn. Light dim.

On the bed sat a frail woman in a blue-and-white striped hospital gown, her hair cropped short, lifeless and straw-like.

Huddled at the head of the bed, she stared blankly at a corner of the room, lips moving slightly, muttering something unintelligible.

Grey walked over, his voice soft. “Kaiya, it’s your brother. I’ve come to see you.”

Kaiya showed no reaction.

Standing in the doorway, Natalie’s eyes quickly scanned the room—a glass of water with a thin layer of white sediment at the bottom sat on the bedside table.

On the windowsill, a pot of devil’s ivy had yellowing edges, as if it had been burned by something.

In the corner was a nondescript cable. Its proximity to an outlet produced a faint electric hum—not typical for regular wiring.

Nurse Fane stood half a step behind her, smiling. “Mrs. Ford, would you like to sit down? Miss Kaiya needs quiet, and standing here might stress her.”

Natalie turned back, meeting Nurse Fane’s eyes.

“Nurse Fane, I have a question.”

“Yes, please.”

“The water on her bedside table.” Natalie nodded toward it. “What medication is in it?”

Nurse Fane’s smile didn’t waver. “A sedative. Miss Kaiya takes it every noon.”

“What’s in it?”

“Well… you’d have to ask the attending physician for specifics. I just deliver the medication.”

Natalie didn’t press further. She walked over to the bed.

Kaiya remained unresponsive, but Natalie noticed the slight tremor in her fingers—not the kind caused by illness, but rhythmic. Like Morse code tapping.

Index finger. Middle finger. Index finger. Index finger. Middle finger.

Pause.

Repeat.

Natalie’s pupils contracted slightly.

It was the Silver Wing internal distress signal, meaning: ‘Being monitored, don’t speak.’

Without giving anything away, she retracted her gaze and gently held Kaiya’s hand.

Kaiya’s fingers paused, then squeezed back forcefully, nails digging into Natalie’s palm.

The pressure was too precise—unlike a mentally ill patient’s subconscious grasp.

Natalie’s mind made a quick assessment.

She stood, smiling at Grey. “Let’s go. Let Kaiya rest.”

Grey frowned. “We just got here—”

“Let her rest.” Natalie was already at the doorway, looking over her shoulder at Nurse Fane. “Thank you, Nurse Fane. By the way, that devil’s ivy isn’t doing well. Its leaves are yellow. Maybe change the pot?”

Nurse Fane’s smile strained for a moment. “Sure. I’ll do that later.”

Natalie pulled Grey out of the room.

In the elevator, Grey lowered his voice. “Why did you mention the devil’s ivy?”

Natalie pressed the button for the first floor and didn’t answer until the doors closed behind them. Leaning against the elevator wall, she opened her right hand, showing Grey a crumpled piece of paper with yellow edges, clearly torn from somewhere.

Grey’s pupils contracted. “What’s that?”

“Your sister slipped it to me.”

Natalie unfolded the paper, revealing a single line of scrawling text, as if written with a non-dominant hand—

“Basement of the fourth floor. Come at night. Don’t bring anyone. Bring Grey.”

Grey’s face changed completely.