Villa values $790 million.

Catherine didn't hold back and expressed, "Leo is absolutely right. When both Rose and Boyle plunged into the water, Boyle callously abandoned Rose, neglecting any attempt to rescue her. She instructed her to wait. If Jack hadn't been there, what fate would've awaited Rose? Where were all of you when Rose was struggling on the water? Is this the level of care you all had for our child?"

The unexpected interrogation from Leo and Catherine left four of them bewildered, caught off guard by the intense questioning. Yet, amidst the chaos, the most startling revelation wasn't about their questioning; it was Rose's unsettling silence that pierced the air. It was shocking to everyone present as Rose, perceived as rebellious and somewhat clueless, hadn't uttered a single word. What made them alarming was the fact of Rose's severe head injury, the blood that had marked her condition. Perhaps her silence stemmed from a memory loss, a consequence of the trauma she had endured. They're lingered collective thought: Rose perhaps, in some inexplicable way, had forgotten everything. Even if her memory remained intact, there was a strong belief that Boyle possessed a greater prowess in handling such situation with her eloquence.

During the puzzling silence surrounding Rose, Emma's voice cut through the tension with a tinge of certainty. "Surely Rose holds the truth of what transpired during that crucial moment. Perhaps it's best to allow Rose and Boyle the opportunity to recount the incident themselves. After all, none of us were present to witness the unfolding events, were we?"

Rose, her slender frame, gradually straightened her back, fixating her gaze on Emma's eyes with unwavering calmness that slowly began to unravel Emma's self-assurance. Yet, Rose remained indifferent to Emma's faltering demeanor. Her voice, a melodic cadence, deliberately enunciated each syllable with a deliberate sweetness, devoid of deceit of ambiguity. "It was Cousin Boyle," she uttered with deliberate slowness, her words piercing the air, "who pushed me into the water. And when I floundered, she abandoned me." Her eyes held unwavering conviction as she continued, "It was my own brother, Jack, who rescued me from the cold pond water. If my aunt doubts my veracity, she need only inquire of my cousin herself." Rose understood Boyle's likely refusal to confess, yet she has an alternate thought to prompt Boyle to reveal the unvarnished truth.

Leo's desperation reached its zenith as he beckoned for the guards, a visceral urgency etched upon his face, directing them with a swift and deliberate gestures to bar the path of Emma, Steve, and the grandparents. His eyes, a tumultuous storm of emotions, reflected a turbulent blend of fury, anguish, and unyielding determination. The mere thought of Boyle, the catalyst behind his daughter's affliction with CIPA, fueled an inferno of wrath within him.

Rose, his cherished daughter, held within the clutches of an incurable condition, had stirred a hurricane of helplessness and rage within Leo. Each beat of his heart throbbed with a visible intensity, his veins pulsating and bulging beneath his skin, coursing with a seething anger that threatened to consume him entirely. Leo's resolve hardened like steel, determined to prevent any interference that might impede the interrogation, driven by an unwavering determination to unearth the truth behind this catastrophic ordeal.

"Leo, what madness possesses you? Do you have no reverence for your father?" The force of grandfather's voice reverberated through the tension-laden air, his words laden with a blend of indignation and dismay. Witnessing the guards, their hands poised, grappling with an internal struggle to contain their mounting agitation, the grandfather's outrage flared even more intensely.

Steve, a mix of nervousness and simmering anger, addressed Leo with a tone laced with disbelief and reproach, "Brother, must you resort to such extreme measures? This was a mere incident, and Rose is still with us, alive and well. Why allow yourself to be consumed by such misguided actions?" Hearing this Leo and Catherine's gazes, transformed into shards of ice, pierced through the quartet. Their eyes glinting with potent fusion of fury and determination, conveying a silent warning. Catherine gesture to zip their mouth too and the guard did as she wanted, leaving the hall silent.

Leo and Catherine, propelled by determination, disregarded any reservation and boldly ventured into the house alongside Rose and Jack. As Rose stepped across the threshold into the grand hall, an eerie mental reel of her most haunting memories unraveled before her eyes. Each recollection was etched in excruciating detail; the vividness was chilling. She was transported back to the unforgiving instance of her punishment for skipping school, the piercing gazes of judgement burning into her soul. The memory of those scornful eyes, fixated on her with a cruel intensity, seared itself into her mind. Every detail resurfaced-the relentless mockery by her peers, the humiliation of being drenched in alcohol, the malicious fingers pointing at her in jest. These scenes played out like a relentless montage, each frame a painful testament to her enduring torment. Despite their stark clarity, she felt an overwhelming sense of self-condemnation for having chosen to disregard these painful truths.

Steve and Emma, riddled with apprehension, hadn't foreseen the impulsive decision to rush to Boyle's side without seeking permission first, and their unease only intensified. As they stood in Boyle's presence, to their surprise, Boyle appeared perfectly fine, devoid of any sign of fever. In truth, her fever had subsided entirely the day following her plunge into the icy pond. It became glaringly evident that the four elders of the house had fabricated Boyle's illness, an elaborated ruse orchestrated to stir guilt within Leo and Catherine's heart and to accuse Rose. Initially believing that Rose a mere nine-year-old, would unquestioningly comply with their version of events, Steve and Emma had expected smooth acceptance of their explanation. However, the stark reality unfolding before them diverge drastically from their presumption. Despite their collective, Emma, Steve and grandparents found themselves helpless, desperately attempting to halt the unfolding events only to be thwarted at every turn. The situation, far from conforming to their anticipated narrative, had taken a distressing turn, leaving them ensnared in a web of unforeseen complication,

They reluctantly conceded to the circumstances, resigned to trailed behind Leo and Catherine. They belief that Boyle, a remarkably astute and cunning young girl, possessed intellect and guile to outmaneuver any attempts to cast a shadow upon her reputation. Boyle is sharp and scheming person. They clung to their conviction, convinced that Boyle's tactical acumen would inevitably lead her to outwit and deceive Leo and Catherine. With each step they ascended, their underlying suspicion simmered, as they anticipated the unfolding of Boyle's calculated moves.

As they stepped into Boyle's room, an opulent scene flattened before their eyes. Each corner exuded an air of elegance and sophistication-ornate furnishings adorned with intricate and details, cascading drapes furnishing the grand windows, and delicate chandeliers casting a soft, ethereal glow. Even Rose, the true daughter of Amber, hadn't been granted such lavish decor.

However, today, the eruption of Leo's fury wasn't sparked by the opulence of her surroundings. Instead, it was the incongruity of the situation that fueled his anger. Boyle, supposedly bedridden, defied all the previous words of her four elders. She sat at the polished grand piano, fingers dancing effortlessly across the keys. Rose faced her arch enemy, a face she hadn't seen since her passing. In that moment, as she locked eyes, a stirring emotion sparked within her, yet her gaze remained tranquil, belying the storm of icy resolve settling within her. To an onlooker, the apparent calmness concealed the tsunami raging beneath the surface, hidden from casual observation.

Boyle is currently indulging in a box of chocolates while simultaneously practicing her piano. She's adorned in a beautiful pink dress that accentuated her natural beauty and gives her the appearance of a princess. The room is tranquil. Suddenly the sound of the door opening interrupts her peaceful state. Boyle's facial expression immediately changed to one of annoyance as she prefers to initiate conversation and dislikes being disturbed without prior warning. She speaks up sharply but didn't divert her gaze from the piano keys, "Didn't I tell you, people, not to disturb me?" Her voice in melodious tone and seething anger, sliced through the room. Her fingers paused momentarily before resuming their dance across the ivory keys. "It is fun to see her like this, how dare she grab me into the cold water." A shiver ran through her spine as she recalled the incident. "I want to see the show, her struggling and dying." her words trailed off, a hint of something unsettling lingering in air. "I just pushed her slightly bu....."

In the tense moment, Emma and others fought against their restraints, panic gripping them as they realized the situation was going out of control. Boyle's words cut through the air, a relentless stream of everything that should have remained unsaid. Emma struggle with all her might, until she finally managed to wrench herself free from the suffocating grip that held her. With trembling fingers, she frantically untangled the gag from her mouth, but cruelly, it was a moment too late. The sequence of event had happened with a harrowing swiftness, leaving Emma racing against time, able to intervene only at the very brink, preventing the last damning word from escaping Boyle's lips. Tears welled in her eyes as she cried out, her voice raw with disbelief and anger, "Boyle, what are you saying?!"

Boyle's anticipation danced on her features as she swiveled her head, envisioning her mother's familiar presence. But her hopeful gaze transformed into disbelief and dismay as she beheld Rose and her family instead. The shock painted her complexion ashen, stealing the breath from her, lungs. Rose mirrored the astonishment, unable to comprehend Boyle's reckless ease in such crucial moment, yet a glimmer of relief refreshed within her- grateful that Boyle's unguarded nature was all she needed to extract the truth. Memories flooded Rose's mind, reminiscent of her past life when Boyle used to speak in such a manner, cloaking her inner turmoil behind veils of carefully chosen words, all while concealing her hideous emotions, turning away to face the indifferent wall.

Motioning to release other threes too, Catherine's laughter rang through the room, a discordant symphony of wrath and disbelief, "So, this is the extent of Boyle's illness?" Her voice dripped with incredulity. "Siter-in-law we must delve into this matter further. Wasn't it you who claimed Boyle to be unwell? Is this what you consider an illness?" Each word from Catherine cut them sharp like daggers, her tone blend with mockery and accusation.

Steve calmly mentioned, "Despite feeling under the weather, her determination to master the piano persists. As we speak, she's devotedly alternating between nibbling on a snack and diligently practicing." His words flowed with such conviction that without prior knowledge, onlookers would unquestioningly accept them as truth.

In unison, Boyle's grandparents nodded in agreement, their expression filled with understanding. Her grandmother, with a soothing tone, intervened, "This seemed to be a minor misunderstanding, dear. There's no need to stir up a commotion over the innocent errors of children. Let's gracefully part ways and each find a moment of respite."

Catherine and Jack, overwhelmed by the deceitful nature of these individuals, felt an intense urge to recoil in disgust. Witnessing the relentless capacity for untruths, even after Boyle's hurtful remarks, they found themselves devoid of the desire for retribution. This family's penchant for deception seemed not only detrimental to Rose but also to their own well-being, painting a concerning pictures of an environment stepped in falsehoods and toxicity.

In the midst of the bustling situation in his villa, Leo struggled to maintain composure. His voice, unexpectedly cold as he addressed the so-called-elders. "Considering the circumstances, it might be best for you all to return to your villa," he stated, his words carrying a chilling indifference. "I've identified the cause of this entire debacle, and I trust you all heard it too. There's no turned back now; it's in our best interest to remain apart. Care, equality-such notions, as Leo Browns, I find unnecessary."

Leo's connection to the surname 'Browns' was tethered to his late mother, Sahra Brown. He'd never truly embraced this title of 'Amber', using it merely for pivotal things he needed to wrest from Stanton. But now, its significance dwindled in comparison to safeguarding his daughter's well-being.

After a pregnant pause, Leo's voice resonated through the tension-filled air once more. "Henceforth, it shall be the Amber, but my family-my kin-desires no further affiliation with the Amber," he declared resolutely. "I, as the representative of Brown lineage, will severe any remaining ties." This decision didn't spring forth in haste; is burgeoned from a careful consideration of every individual's circumstance, meticulously weighed and pondered upon.

Boyle wore an enigmatic expression that concealed her thoughts from everyone but Rose, who seemed to grasp the untold narrative behind Boyle's gaze. It was evident Boyle's mind was consumed by the sheer opulence of the Villa, a place that seemed custom-tailored for her existence. The grandeur whispered to her soul, ignited an unquenchable desire-the kind her father, in all his wealth, could never bestowed upon her. This exquisite sanctuary beckoned to Boyle. offering a liberating embrace to her former life, devoid of such luxuries, presented a haunting quandary, casting shadows over her resolve.

Boyle's complexion turned ashen, drained of color, as she implored her uncle with a voice laced with desperation and remorse. "Please, uncle," she uttered, the words carrying a weight of sincerity and regret. "I know I erred. I beg of you, believe that I've learned from my mistakes. I promise, I will never tread such a path again. Allow us to remain here." Her plea echoed with a poignant mix of contrition and fervor, displaying a scene of portrait of penitence etched deeply within her troubled expression.

Both Emma and Steve wore expression marred by an unsettling ugliness, their faces contorted in a manner that spoke volumes of dissatisfaction. The initial carefree countenances of both grandfather and grandmother had noticeably vanished. It was discernible that the allure of this villa, an architectural masterpiece crafter by the renowned Sahra Browns, captivated their attention. In the Eastern world, the touch of a Browns-designed villa signaled sumptuousness beyond measure. Each of these dwellings was an embodiment of exorbitance and elegance, a testament to the elevated taste and unparalleled craftmanship of the designer. The mere mention of residing in such space stirred desire within every individual. These villas, designed with a profound love for luxury and comfort, commanded a staggering value exceeding $790 million, a sum so immense that it surpassed the accumulation of wealth most could dream of amassing in their lifetime.