Your present is almost ready

"Nice reflexes!" That person stood in front of Liora, watching her with curious eyes. Soon, a grin spread across his face as if he had just resolved an important equation.

James tilted his head slightly, his narrowed eyes locking onto Liora with keen interest. His expression barely concealed amusement, stretching into a perfectly measured smile as he extended his hand. "Hi, I'm James."

Harper, still smoothing out her clothes and brushing her hair in an attempt to recover from her embarrassing fall, froze in place.

'What in the world is going on? Yesterday, it was Caspian who came to her rescue, and today, James is introducing himself. Are they planning to dump Pearl for this gold digger or what?'

Elena and Harper shared a glance of sheer disbelief. They stood a few feet away, watching the unexpected interaction unfold under the shade of the trees.

The sight was like a slap to their pride. Their eyes widened with a mixture of dread and outrage.

Kai and Logan had broken up with them for this girl. And now, Caspian and James—two men who had never been swayed by any women apart from Pearl—were suddenly interested in her?

'Who is she?'

A terrifying thought struck them both like lightning— 'Is she going to be the next Pearl for Caspian and James? Or will they soon see her sitting behind Kai or Logan's Ducati bikes?'

Their silent exchange of glances carried a dark, unspoken promise. To make this girl pay for what she did.

They would teach her a lesson. And they had the perfect weapons: Pearl and Rihana. All they needed to do was tell Pearl first. And to drive the knife deeper, Rihana would make sure it hurt. That thought brought a smile on their lips. They turned and left, already savouring the chaos they were about to unleash.

Meanwhile, Liora pressed her hands together in front of her chest, fingers pointing upwards in a graceful, respectful gesture. She bowed her head slightly. "Hi, I'm Li," she said with a polite smile.

Her gaze flickered to James's outstretched hand. "I've grown accustomed to the Buddhist style of greeting after the pandemic." She forced a light smile, uncertainty creeping into her thoughts. Why was Caspian's friend talking to her? Did Caspian find out it's her? Did he know who she really was?

If he did—then why wasn't he here?

Liora's curiosity got the better of her. Her head tilted slightly, her brows drawing together as she subtly tried to peer past James's broad shoulders. She shifted from one foot to the other, a subconscious effort to glimpse beyond him.

Her gaze flickered as if she half-expected Caspian to materialize behind his friend.

"Caspian is not here," James said, catching her anxious movements. "He won't be around for a while."

Liora's breath hitched hearing that. Her heart pounded against her ribs out of nervousness. "Why? Is he sick?" She instinctively moved a little closer to James, worry tightening her features.

Her eyes searched his, moving from one light brown iris to the other, desperate for an answer.

James studied her reaction. His sharp gaze traced every delicate shift in her expression. The way her eyes brimmed with concern, the slight tremble in her breath and it only deepened his smile. There was something about her desperation that entertained him, that fascinated him. His smile curved slightly, a hint of amusement lurking beneath the surface.

"Something like that," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "He won't be reachable for a while."

Liora's chest tightened. "Unreachable? What do you mean?" Her voice quivered, the uncertainty in her gut turning into full-fledged panic.

'Did I make a mistake? Should I have called him the first day I arrived? Should I have sought him out on my first day at university? Is the universe punishing me for staying away?'

Her lashes fluttered as she cast her gaze downward, staring at the grass beneath her feet. She didn't want James to see the emotions swelling in her eyes. But her silence spoke volumes.

James's smile faltered slightly, his amusement giving way to something more serious. "He needed to be somewhere else. His grandfather assigned him some important tasks. But don't worry, he'll be back soon..... Liora."

Her head snapped up at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue. Her lips parted in surprise.

James continued, his voice steady. "He asked me to inform you… he recognized you when you ran away." James's expression softened into a smile—this time, not mocking, not teasing, but reassuring. "He wants you to keep smiling, Liora."

"I don't understand why. If he knows who I am, why he didn't come to talk to me before he left?" Liora pressed her inquiry.

How could Caspian treat her this way? Is he upset with her? She felt anxious. Will he end things with her? No, Liora couldn't contemplate a breakup with Caspian. She would seek forgiveness from him if necessary. She wouldn't allow him to break up with her. Liora's mind raced, and her breathing became erratic.

"He left last night, which is why he couldn't reach out to you. Don't distress yourself, Liora. You know he only has eyes for you, right? He wants to see you more than you know, Liora," James attempted to ease Liora's worries. The university server is linked to his company, making it simple for him to learn about Liora. She was the only girl whose appearance didn't match her registration photo. If Caspian had approached him, he could have helped him, but he didn't, so he kept this information to himself. He will wait until Caspian asks for his help in finding Liora.

"See you soon." With that, James departed before Liora could pose any more questions.

He had to protect Caspian. So what if he did not tell him about Liora? So what if he tried to hide his obsession with Liora from him? He will wait until Caspian opens to him. If Liora tried to find out why Caspian wasn't coming and discovered the truth about Pearl, it would create serious trouble for his friend. So, James decided to help his blood brother—without his consent.

And when else would he have a perfect time to get acquainted with Liora, Caspian's obsession—or perhaps transcendence? A sly smirk appeared on his face as he walked away.

Liora didn't wait any longer. She abandoned her plan to make Caspian search for her and quickly pulled out her phone.

With a quick scan of her face, she dialled her beloved boyfriend's number—only for it to go straight to voicemail.

Confused and worried, she pulled the phone down from her ear and stared at it before trying again. Voicemail again.

What had she done? Her tote bag slipped off her shoulder as she dropped to the ground, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't do it here—not in front of other students. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, trying to steady herself.

"I want to be with Caspian," she whispered to herself. "Why did he go away? Yesterday, he was so close—just inches away—and today he's unreachable, just like those four months."

Desperation clawed at her heart. She considered calling the Chairman to ask where Caspian had gone, but she quickly dismissed the thought. How could she do that? She had to understand Caspian's position. She knew he wouldn't willingly go away from her. The Chairman must have sent him away forcefully.

'Mr. Chairman must have sent him away,' she thought, trying to convince herself.

'Caspian didn't want to go. He's a good grandson, a good friend, and a good boyfriend. He wouldn't leave me if he had a choice.'

Liora began to encourage herself, pushing back the sadness. Even though he wasn't reachable, she could still support him in her heart. Holding her tote bag tightly, she stood up and went to her room.

*

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Previous night -

As Caspian's car neared the Sinclair estate, four guards stood at the gates like statues. They looked like a special ops team, standing still with their hands resting on the weapons at their sides. The gates opened smoothly, but the guards did not move. Their gaze followed the sleek black car as it passed through, only to snap back to their forward.

Caspian couldn't deny the flicker of satisfaction at the sheer discipline and power that surrounded the Sinclair family. It was a reflection of his own world—cold, controlled, and formidable, just like Galcier's world.

As the car drove down the stone path, Caspian admired the beauty of the estate. The architecture was nothing short of breathtaking, reminiscent of the White House, though on a slightly smaller scale. Anyone who set foot here would see it for what it was—a fortress of wealth and influence.

The last time he visited, the garden was filled with bright red and golden flowers. Now, a new season has come, covering the landscape with calm blue and white flowers as if it is mourning a loss.

Everything about this place screamed power. And today, it was his turn to mark his presence within its walls.

The grand double doors swung open as the car rolled to a stop. Margarette Sinclair, Pearl's mother, stepped out to greet him. Normally, she was a woman whose very presence could command attention in any room. But today, she looked different—tense and restless.

Her fingers fidgeted against the fabric of her dress, a stark contrast to the unshakable grace she had always carried.

"Welcome, Caspian," she said, forcing a polite smile, though the strain in her voice was evident. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Of course, Mrs Sinclair," Caspian replied smoothly, his voice laced with just the right amount of concern. "How could I not when it's Pearl?"

Her lips parted as if to say something, but she hesitated, glancing around as if afraid someone might overhear.

"Let's talk inside," she finally said, motioning for him to follow.

Caspian stepped into the Sinclair house. The high ceilings, the crystal chandeliers, and carefully chosen artwork showed wealth.

The moment he stepped into Pearl's bedroom, his gaze flickered to her unconscious form. She lay motionless on her bed. Her usually flawless complexion looked pale and drained. Her perfect hair was a tangled mess against the silk pillows.

Beside her, a doctor and two nurses monitored her condition. Peter Sinclair, Pearl's father, stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed, his sharp eyes never leaving his daughter.

The room was filled with the quiet hum of medical monitors, their rhythmic beeping the only sound disrupting the heavy silence.

Caspian's gaze drifted to a large framed photograph on the wall above a white loveseat. The photo showed a special moment—Pearl, James, and he were standing together with our arms around each other, laughing at an inside joke.

This was the first time he had ever stepped foot inside Pearl's personal space.

"How is she?" Margarette's voice trembled as she looked at the doctor, her hands clenching together as though holding herself together.

The doctor sighed, adjusting his glasses. "It's going to take time for her body to recover. She suffered a severe overdose. When someone overdoses, their body systems become overwhelmed—the heart rate spikes or crashes, breathing can stop, and the brain may suffer from oxygen deprivation.

"We've started treatment—IV fluids, medications to stabilize her system—but full recovery will take time. Hours, maybe days."

Margarette inhaled sharply, her hands flying to cover her mouth.

Peter's gaze, however, remained locked onto Caspian.

Caspian ignored him, stepping forward to Pearl's bedside. Gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his expression unreadable.

"You'll be alright, Pearl. I've come," he murmured softly. The words were barely audible, yet they were enough to pull Margarette towards him, her worried eyes searching his face for reassurance.

Peter, however, was not so easily swayed.

"Caspian, I need a word with you. Privately," the older man said, his voice like steel.

Caspian turned to face him, his expression carefully neutral. "Of course, Mr. Sinclair. As you wish."

He followed Pearl's parents out of the room, down the hallway, and into the grand living area.

The moment they entered, Peter strode towards a polished mahogany bar, retrieving two crystal glasses. He poured a generous amount of whiskey into each and handed one to Caspian before settling into a high-backed leather chair.

Caspian accepted the glass but didn't drink.

Peter's gaze and voice were razor-sharp. "When did this start?" he asked, his voice unwavering. "And who the hell sold her drugs?"

Caspian exhaled slowly, setting his glass down on the table before looking straight at Pearl's father.

"Mr Sinclair, first, I want to apologize," he began, his voice low, measured. "James and I tried to reason with her, but Pearl insisted she only did it occasionally. She told us that she only did it because she felt lonely at home." Caspian quickly dropped the guilt on Pearl's parents. They were too busy to spend time with Pearl and to keep her happy, they gave her whatever she demanded.

Margarette stiffened while Peter's jaw ticked.

Caspian leaned forward, sighing. "We didn't want to push too hard and risk her shutting us out. We believed that if we stayed close, we could protect her and help her quit. We thought she had stopped…" He let the sentence trail off. "I should have come to you the moment I found out. I take full responsibility for that."

His words were carefully placed, shifting the burden onto the Sinclairs themselves.

Peter's grip on his whiskey glass tightened.

Margarette's hands trembled slightly as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"There were no arguments between you two today?" she asked hesitantly.

Caspian nodded. "We did have a disagreement," he admitted, his expression darkening just enough to sell his remorse. "Over something stupid. I thought she just needed time to cool off before we talked again… I never imagined it would come to this."

Margarette pressed a hand to her chest, her breath shaky. Peter, meanwhile, remained rigid, deep in thought.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Peter spoke.

"I don't want this going public," he said firmly. "If word gets out that my daughter—" he cut himself off, shaking his head. "Caspian, can I count on your discretion?"

Caspian leaned back slightly, tilting his head. "Of course, I understand."

"Stay with Pearl," he continued. "Until she's fully recovered. Both you and James will accompany her. I'll speak to the dean about recording your lectures."

Caspian felt a slow, victorious smirk tug at the corners of his lips—but he didn't let it show.

"Of course," he said smoothly. "I would do anything for Pearl."

This was it. This was what he had been waiting for. Peter had unknowingly handed him the keys to the kingdom. A direct invitation into the Sinclair family's inner circle. Finally, his grandfather would be proud of him, and he would soon be the king of the Glacier's enterprise.

Once Pearl's mother left the room and Peter went to the bar for another round of drinks, Caspian reached for his phone, composing a message to his grandfather.

Across the ocean, in Avalon City, the chairman's phone buzzed with a single text:

"Your present is almost ready."

Caspian leaned back into the chair, watching Peter closely.

'One step closer to the throne.'