Finding Vivi

After hearing the servant's words, Valerian Northcott's expression darkened slightly.

The mention of Vivi, the nickname of his late sister, Everly Northcott—stirred memories he would have preferred to leave buried.

His sister, just eighteen years old at the time, had gone on a trip with her classmates and never returned.

She was found lifeless in a hotel room, the victim of a senseless tragedy.

The murderer had turned themselves in and been sentenced to life imprisonment, but no sentence could restore what had been lost.

Valerian's grandmother, the fiercely protective and loving matriarch of the family, had adored Vivi.

Fearing the news of her death would devastate the old woman, the family had told her that Vivi had gone abroad to study.

For years, they had upheld this charade, crafting letters and fabricating updates.

But two years ago, the truth had slipped through the cracks, reaching the old lady's ears.

She had never been the same since.

Valerian didn't have time to dwell on the past.

He strode quickly to his grandmother's room, his long legs carrying him with purpose.

Inside the bedroom, chaos reigned.

Old Madam Northcott stood in the center of the room, her face flushed with anger as she waved off the servants surrounding her. "What nonsense are you all spouting? My Vivi is alive and well! I just saw her with my own eyes! How dare you lie to me and say she won't come back? Get out! All of you, get out!"

The servants looked helplessly at one another, unsure how to calm her down.

When Valerian entered, his presence was like a storm rolling into the room.

Old Madam Northcott's sharp eyes immediately softened at the sight of him.

She rushed toward him, gripping his arm tightly.

"Valerian, thank goodness you're here!" Her voice trembled with urgency.

She shot a scathing glare at the servants, her tone turning accusatory. "These fools are trying to tell me that Vivi will never come back! Tell them they're wrong. Tell them my Vivi is fine, isn't she?"

Valerian hesitated for only a fraction of a second before pulling his grandmother into a gentle hug.

His voice was calm, soothing. "Yes, Grandma. Vivi is fine."

His cold, hawk-like gaze swept over the servants, making them shrink back in fear.

No one dared to speak another word.

Old Madam Northcott sighed in relief, her tense shoulders relaxing. "I told you. I knew I wasn't mistaken. I saw her today—my Vivi. How could I not recognize my own granddaughter?"

Valerian chose his next words carefully.

"Grandma, I heard you haven't had lunch yet. Why don't we go eat something first? You need to keep your strength up."

Her expression shifted to one of suspicion. "Where is Vivi? Why isn't she here?"

"She… she had something important to take care of," Valerian said, his voice steady despite the weight of his lie.

Old Madam Northcott's face darkened. "What could possibly be more important than having a meal with me? Call her. Tell her I won't eat unless she comes home!"

Valerian's jaw tightened, but he kept his tone patient. "Grandma—"

"No! Call her!" she interrupted, pushing him away and retreating to her bed.

She crossed her arms stubbornly, her expression resolute. "If Vivi doesn't come, neither do I."

Valerian let out a slow breath, realizing further argument would be pointless.

For now, all he could do was leave her to cool down.

Northcott Estate – Study

An hour later, Valerian sat behind his massive oak desk, flipping through paperwork while his mind replayed his grandmother's outburst.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he called, his voice clipped.

Ezra Cole, his ever-efficient assistant, entered the room carrying a folder. He placed it neatly on the desk in front of Valerian.

"This is the information you requested, sir," Ezra said, his tone precise and professional.

Valerian opened the folder, scanning the contents. "What do you have?"

"The woman who saved the old madam is named Ivy Delacroix," Ezra began. "She recently returned from Country Stonegate, where she's spent the last several years. Her current records are thorough, but…" He hesitated.

"But what?" Valerian's sharp eyes flicked up to meet Ezra's.

"There's no trace of her before the age of eighteen," Ezra admitted. "It's as if her life prior to that simply doesn't exist in any database."