Sophia Sullivan strode briskly out of The Winston Estate and immediately dialed Ryan Lawrence's number.
Her tone was icy. "Have you located Mr. Winston Sr.?"
Ryan quickly pulled up the records.
"Mr. Winston Sr. is indeed in Switzerland. But he's deliberately avoiding the Winston family—just traveling solo to clear his mind."
Scanning the intel from The Decagon, Ryan's voice relaxed. "His health is excellent. Medical records show no issues."
He chuckled. "The old man's in high spirits. Signed up for skiing lessons at his age."
Sophia's tension finally eased.
She guessed the elder Winston had fled abroad out of anger over Liam Winston's divorce.
A sigh escaped her lips.
Fate was cruel. She and Mr. Winston Sr. were never meant to be family.
Back at her apartment, Sophia began packing.
Seeing the mountain of items Isabella Robinson had prepared, she massaged her temples. "I'm just moving, not fleeing a disaster."
Her own belongings were minimal, yet Isabella had multiplied them tenfold.
Even kitchenware was included—most still sealed in packaging.
Isabella crossed her arms. "I didn't want you struggling alone."
As Sophia opened her mouth to protest, Isabella signaled movers to load the car.
"These are gifts. No returns allowed!"
Rolling up her sleeves, Isabella grinned. "Let's go, sis. Moving day!"
Arriving at the villa near The Underground City, Sophia understood Ethan Sullivan's definition of "good security."
This wasn't good—it was Fort Knox.
The villa stood secluded among high-rises, an oasis of privacy.
Surrounded by elite clubs, the neighborhood was inaccessible to ordinary citizens.
The sprawling property oozed luxury.
Even the courtyard fountain mimicked Bellagio's, resembling a royal palace.
Isabella arched a brow. "Ethan seriously charges you just $2,000 monthly rent?"
She teased, "The business genius is losing money on real estate?"
Sophia coughed lightly. "It's gratitude for curing his niece."
Dialing Ethan, she said, "I've moved in. Thanks for the discount."
A lazy baritone responded, "My pleasure. I should thank you for the medicine. Free tonight? Dinner's on me."
Isabella tugged her sleeve, waggling her eyebrows.
Her face screamed "I knew it!"
Sophia declined politely. "The rent is generous enough. I can't accept more."
Ethan toyed with a security remote, prepared.
"It's not just dinner. This villa has cutting-edge alarms—intruders trigger direct alerts to Sullivan Corp."
His chuckle was smooth. "The controller's with me. I'll deliver it tonight."
The excuse was bulletproof.
Sophia reluctantly agreed.
Hanging up, Isabella smirked.
"Looks like dinner plans are set. Shopping first—you need dresses, not sweatshirts."
Linking arms with Sophia, she added, "Time to glam up!"
Amid her chaotic schedule, Sophia welcomed the break.
She smiled. "Alright."