Chapter 681

Chapter 681:

Aiden exhaled heavily, the weight of Janice’s words settling on his shoulders. Disposing of Wendy would be simple. The real battle lay in helping Stephen break free from the mental cage she’d constructed around him. If Stephen couldn’t shatter those invisible chains, even with Wendy gone, he’d remain her prisoner, haunted by ghosts of her control.

“Aiden, I need to head to Cloverhill next.”

“Hold on.” Aiden’s brow furrowed as he searched Janice’s face. “Tell me you’re not planning to go alone.”

“Uh… yeah.” Janice hesitated. “A larger group would only draw unwanted eyes and complications.”

“You’re right.” Aiden nodded decisively. “Safe travels, then.”

Janice stared at him, stunned. She’d braced for his usual stubborn insistence on accompanying her. Instead, he’d casually agreed to her solo journey to Cloverhill, throwing her completely off balance. “You’re not playing games, are you?” Janice narrowed her eyes, suspicion creeping in.

“Games? Whatever for?” Aiden’s shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, a cunning smile playing across his lips, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you expected me to beg to tag along to Cloverhill?” Janice was silent.

“Rest assured, I won’t become your shadow.”

His newfound nonchalance left Janice oddly unsettled, missing his usual dogged persistence. She’d grown accustomed to his unwavering attention, and this sudden shift felt like stepping onto unstable ground.

“Cloverhill’s a nest of vipers, nothing like Efrery’s gentler waters. Watch your step when you arrive.” Aiden’s finger brushed her nose with butterfly-light tenderness.

“Okay.” Janice’s nose crinkled at the phantom tingle of his touch.

Cloverhill stood as the nation’s crown jewel. Tales painted it as streets lined with gold, a beacon drawing ambitious youth like moths to flame. Yet how many truly soared to its glittering heights, and how many became mere cobblestones in others’ paths to glory?

𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 @ 𝓰ⱥ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⸳𝓬𝓸𝓶

For the dreamers, it sparkled with promise. But to Janice, it was just another concrete jungle, choked with dust and desperation—no place to plant roots. She yearned for Efrery’s simple charms—a town where contentment flowed freely, even if pockets ran shallow.

“Mr. Welch, I’ll reach you in two hours. See you soon.”

Fresh off the plane, Janice’s phone buzzed with Mateo’s call. His strained tone painted a grim picture—Orson’s decline was accelerating. Without a will, the Welch family could descend into a bloodthirsty power struggle.

Cloverhill’s crisp air bit sharper than Efrery’s gentle warmth. Janice cut an elegant figure—her flowing locks framing designer sunglasses, a tailored trench coat completing her effortlessly sophisticated silhouette.

She glided through domestic arrivals, her suitcase trailing behind, leaving a wake of turned heads and whispered admirations. Men’s gazes followed her like moths to flame, some brave souls teetering on the edge of approach. Yet her regal bearing—an invisible crown of authority—kept them at bay, sparing her from unwanted attention.

Janice caught sight of Vernon near the exit, his distinctive presence impossible to miss. Pushing her sunglasses higher on the bridge of her nose, she found herself momentarily speechless. Vernon remained true to his nature—a walking masterpiece of flash and flair that demanded attention. Fortunately, not many people in Cloverhill knew him; otherwise, he would have been swarmed by admirers.

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