Quincy mentioned there was trouble at work, so naturally, Lydia asked a few questions. But he didn't want to say much, leaving her no choice but to let it go. "Alright, just come home soon," she finally said.

After they hung up, there was a knock at the door, followed by the concerned voice of the housekeeper.

"Ma'am, I've made some chicken soup. Would you like some?"

Lydia opened the door and let her in to set the soup on the table. The housekeeper was about to leave, but she hesitated, as if she had something on her mind. "What is it, Mrs. Clinton?" Lydia asked.

Mrs. Clinton hesitated for a moment before replying, "A man called earlier. When I asked who he was, he hung up right away."

"Maybe he dialed the wrong number?"

"That's what I thought too. But he called several times," she said, looking at Lydia with uncertainty. "I thought he might be trying to reach someone."

Lydia's eyes flickered with unease. Quincy hadn't come home yet, and aside from Mrs. Clinton, she was the only one in the house.

her? But how would anyone know the

her expression darkened. Just thinking about him put her in a

fact, just unplug the

still required a cord. Unplugging it would stop the calls entirely. Mrs. Clinton nodded and quickly went downstairs, likely to

In the middle of the night, she stirred, feeling a faint tickling sensation. When she opened her eyes, the soft light from earlier had given way to a

she fully woke

silhouette beside her and spoke in a groggy voice, "Quincy? Why didn't you

disturb you," Quincy replied softly. "I didn't think I'd end up waking

on his lap. Quincy gently helped her get more comfortable, and they

the faint

an overwhelming sense of peace. After some time, she broke the silence. "How's the situation with the rumors

notices to a few influencers, and we've issued a statement

Lydia asked, hesitating

stoop to something as trivial as editing photos. He had orchestrated everything carefully, using public pressure to push her into

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