Chapter 953

He was dying to know, but Marcus had already told him to get out, and he was running out of time. If he dawdled any longer, he would miss his flight. Shoving his curiosity aside, Connor headed back to his room, grabbed his luggage, and left for the airport.

After he left, an assistant walked into Marcus's office.

"Where is his flight heading, sir?"

The assistant named the destination, and Marcus's hand faltered. The kid really had

a death wish. But at least he finally had the guts to put his life on the line for a woman—even if she wasn't Gwyn's mother, seeing Connor step up brought Marcus a sense of closure.

The assistant asked, "Should we bring him back?"

Marcus kept his eyes glued to the documents on his desk.

"No, let him go. Send a few more men to keep a close eye on him. If things go sideways, pull him out immediately."

Understanding the order, the assistant nodded and left. Just as Connor was about to board, he received a text from Gwyn.

"Connor, where are you right now? You mentioned heading back to Starfall City for business. Safe travels."

Connor quickly typed a reply.

"Please keep an eye on Leonie for me. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Once on the plane, Connor didn't fly straight to his final destination. Instead, he took a connecting flight to Starfall City. He needed to see the woman his uncle had mentioned. His gut told him she knew something. Even if she didn't have the answers he wanted, getting a glimpse into the missing chapters of his life was better than nothing.

Starfall Penitentiary had better facilities than most maximum-security prisons, but for the inmates, it was still pure hell. They endured grueling manual labor and a rigid schedule year after year. It wasn't a pitch-black dungeon, but the crushing weight of losing one's freedom was a fate worse than death.

Connor couldn't fathom what drove people to commit crimes that landed them in a place like this. But one thing was certain-they hadn't feared death back when they broke the faw. When he gave the guards the name of the inmate he wanted to see, the officer gave him a long, measuring look before replying dryly.

"This woman hasn't had a visitor in over two decades. You're the first. Are you family?"

Connor let out a scoff.

"No."

More like an enemy, he added silently. But he kept that to himself; if the guards knew his true intentions, they would never let him inside.

"Violet Marchand."

Out in the yard, Violet froze when she heard her name. It took the guard calling it a third time for her to finally turn around. "Are you talking to me?"

The guard snapped impatiently.

"Yes, get over here. You have a visitor."

Violet shuddered. For over twenty years, not a single soul had cared if she lived or died. No one had ever come to see her. Who could it possibly be now?

She shook her head. "I'm not going. Nobody knows me. Nobody would come for me."

Her mind raced. For a fleeting second, she wondered if it was McNeil. But she quickly dismissed the absurd notion with a bitter laugh. That heartless bastard would never visit her. In the end, Violet had realized that no matter how many schemes she plotted, MeNeil's heart would always belong to Victoria.

She couldn't understand what seductive witchcraft that useless woman possessed to make so

many men obsess over her. Still et

Violet had zero regrets about sinking a knife into McNeil. The blade had gone in deep, he was probably long dead by now, she told herself. Her thoughts were abruptly shattered by the guard's furious bark.