He explained carefully.

Dylan froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What did you just say?"

"He..." The butler's voice faltered.

Before the explanation could continue, Dylan snapped, cutting him off. "You are in on this too, aren't you, another one of Ghislaine's little games? Tell me where she’s hiding Landon, or I will fire you!"

I could not hold back any longer after hearing his accusation. "You really think I’m that cruel?" My voice trembled, a mixture of sorrow and anger boiling beneath the surface.

Dylan’s glare cut through me when he said, "You are."

With a wave of his hand, he summoned his assistant. "Find out where Landon is. The butler is useless. If you do not have an answer by tomorrow, you are both fired."

I smirked through the pain. "Dylan, you are insane."

I did not stay to watch his temper flare again. With my suitcase, I left.

But Dylan’s reach was long. He made sure that Frelonia shut its doors to me. No place to go; nowhere to hide.

Then, even if I found temporary solace in my boutique, I should have known better if Karyn had no trouble finding me.

As the minutes ticked by, 11:59 p.m. The tension in my chest built as I stayed awake, knowing something was coming.

I could feel it. I had been there before, like reliving a nightmare on a loop.

Time passed. I made a quick excuse to go outside and throw out the trash. That was when I saw Karyn holding a tank of kerosene.

I froze for a second. Then, it all rushed back.

I stormed toward her, my voice rising. "What are you doing?"

She smiled, but her eyes were cold. "Oh, it is you. I did not think I would run into my dear sister again today."

Then, she continued, her voice dripped with mockery. "But do not worry, everything of yours will be better off in ashes, don't you think?"

Anger surged in me, but before I could react, her bodyguards were on me. They grabbed me, forcing me to the ground. I struggled, but it was useless.

"Hahaha," Karyn’s laugh was cruel. "You think you can fight me, Ghislaine? You have always been beneath me. It’s where you belong."

She walked around the boutique, spreading oil.

Then, she crouched down, pinching my chin with icy fingers. Her voice was a sinister whisper, "You know, as long as you are alive, I’m just the mistress. But once you are out of the picture, I’m not second anymore."

I struggled to control my fury, I asked her, "Karyn, what is this really about?"

She laughed again, louder this time. "You have been so rude to me lately. Not like the obedient, ugly duckling I grew up with. It does not suit you, dear," she sneered.

As her bodyguards tried to drug me, Karyn leaned closer, her voice softer but sharper than ever. "Oh, and by the way, I hired a driver to make sure Landon did not live past five. But do not worry, you will be joining him soon."

Her words hit me like ice in my veins. It turned out that my son’s death was not an accident. It was her.

My Landon. A rage deeper than anything I had ever known coursed through me. I could not let it end like that.

Despite the drowsiness from the drugs she had slipped me, I fought to stay awake.

But the drug was too strong, I slept for a moment and realized that the flames were licking at the edges of the boutique, closing in fast.

"Damn it!" I cursed under my breath, reaching for the scissors I had hidden earlier.

With a quick, desperate motion, I began cutting through the rope that bound me to the chair.

Even if my hands shook in panic, I managed to free myself.

With every second that passed, the flames grew louder, their crackling and snapping reminding me of the urgency. Karyn had already left, probably assuming I was as good as dead.

Stumbling to my feet, I ran to the second floor, grabbing a cloth. I tied it into a makeshift rope, securing it to the window. Smoke filled the room, the heat becoming unbearable.

I opened the window and jumped, using the cloth to lower myself down. The flames followed me, bursting out through the window as I descended.

Just as I neared the ground, the flames surged from the window I had just escaped, searing my back and legs. I screamed as the pain shot through me a light burn, but enough to remind me that I was still alive.

With the remaining energy, I ran away, trying to find a taxi to escape from there.

However, I inhaled too much smoke, making my consciousness even less conscious. With a thud, I fell to the ground.

“Hold on,” a deep, soothing voice whispered urgently near my ear.

I wanted to respond, to express my gratitude or at least see who my rescuer was, but no sound came from my lips. Darkness took over, and I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, the soft rustle of fabric and the warmth of a thick blanket cocooned me in unfamiliar comfort.

The room was dimly lit, flickering candlelight casting gentle shadows on the walls. My head throbbed with the memory of pain, but the serenity around me felt far removed from the chaos I had just escaped.

As my vision cleared, I noticed a figure standing at the foot of the bed, a man, tall and commanding.

His presence demanded attention immediately.

He was strikingly handsome, with a chiseled jawline, high cheekbones, and intense silver eyes that seemed to pierce right through me.

His dark, wavy hair framed his face with effortless perfection, and every inch of him exuded power and control.

"Finally, you are awake," he said, his deep voice carrying a smooth yet authoritative tone.

I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced me to stay down. "Where am I?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"Kalondia. You said, 'Get me out of Frelonia,' so I did," he replied matter-of-factly.

Kalondia was one town over, a place I often visited for the best fabrics for my designs. But how had I ended up there?

The last thing I remembered was the fire, Karyn, the pain of losing Landon, and then I was saved by someone. So, he should be the one who saved me.

The man’s calm face remained unreadable as he sat beside my bed.

“Who are you?” I asked, desperate to make sense of the situation.

He smiled softly, as though to reassure me. "Good question. I am Keenan Altair."

The name hit me like a spark. ‘Altair? The owner of Altair Group?’ I wondered.

I had heard of him. The Altair family controlled one of the largest textile companies, famous for their quality exports. They were longtime rivals of the Hoover family, always competing for market share both locally and internationally.

Still reeling from the shock of everything, I blurted out, “Why did you save me?”

Keenan’s lips curled into a small smile as he signaled a servant to bring in breakfast. "Another good question, but one that can wait. You need to eat first. You have been through a lot and need to heal."

Two trays were brought in, one for me and one for him. I stared at the grand spread of food, but I refused to touch anything until he gave me an answer.

“Please,” I begged, “just tell me why you helped me.”

He calmly spread jam on his bread, then offered it to me. "It's understandable that you are skeptical. But think about it, if I had bad intentions, I would have left you lying in the streets of Frelonia last night."

Reluctantly, I took the bread. His logic made sense, but trust was not something I gave easily.

“Thank you for saving me,” I muttered, “but strangers do not rescue people without a reason. I have lived long enough to know that.”

Keenan smiled again, but that time, there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You want a reason? Then tell me, why did you have so much trouble last night? Are you involved in something dangerous or illegal?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything I had been through.

"So, is the Altair family too secretive to explain their motives before asking others to spill their own stories?" I shot back, a bit defensively.

His smile deepened, and though it was disarmingly charming, I reminded myself not to be taken in by charm. I had learned my lesson about falling for powerful men.

But then, as if to completely throw me off guard, Keenan leaned forward and gently wiped a bit of jam from my lips with his thumb. Then, he brought it to his own mouth, licking it away with no hesitation.

The gesture left me stunned. Even Dylan had never been so intimate, often mocking me for being messy rather than helping.

I stared at Keenan, unsure of what to make of him.

He said casually, “Well, if we are getting to know each other, I do not mind starting first. It seems only fair.”

His tone was playful then, teasing, "After all, I would not mind getting to know you better, Miss Saunders."

His use of my name startled me. “You… you know who I am?”