Beside her sat a three–year–old boy in casual wear, radiating quiet elegance despite his simple clothes.

The little one intently studied a financial newspaper.

On his other side sat Zoe, now in her fifties.

“It’s time. Jacob Ramirez, promise you’ll listen to Grandma Zoe?”

Maureen checked her watch, gently ruffling her son Jacob’s hair.

Jacob obediently closed the newspaper, discreetly covering the page about Geoffrey. “I will,” he stated seriously.

The little one was barely over three, yet acted like a little adult.

Maureen gazed at the child who bore a striking resemblance to Geoffrey, reluctantly hugging him: “Take good care of your brother too.”

Zoe patted her shoulder nearby.

“Go ahead. I’ll look after both little ones.”

Maureen nodded, dragging her luggage onto the flight bound for Karaville.

Inside the plane’s first–class cabin.

Maureen gazed at the clouds outside the window, her mind drifting back four years.

Back then, despairing and heartbroken, she’d sought Gareth’s help to fake her death and leave the country. Abroad, she’d given premature birth to twins.

Everything had gone smoothly until last March, when her younger son Ethan Ramirez–already frail from premature birth–was diagnosed with a malignant clonal disease of hematopoietic stem cells, commonly known as leukemia.

Doctors told Maureen that umbilical cord blood stem cell transplants could treat blood disorders.

For months, she’d tried obtaining Geoffrey’s sperm through intermediaries.

All attempts failed.

With time critical for treatment, Maureen had to return herself to get it!

not for little Ethan, she’d never set foot

friend Katherine White texted: “Swamped lately. Wait till I’m back to help deal with Geof- frey and teach that bitch Andrea

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further studies abroad while

they’d coincidentally reunited in

message, Maureen felt warmth

Karaville.

Summer brought relentless downpours.

in the evening, her eyes dazed as she gazed at the familiar yet

a luxurious Lincoln pulled up

driver stepped out and opened the door

Maureen nodded. “Thank you.”

warm smile. “No need

Burke arranged accommodations

Burke” he

she’d never have known his self–deprecating “small–time boss” label was

his connections spanning both sides of the law–without which she and her children couldn’t

the car, Maureen watched the

remained largely unchanged after four years, save for

just as a singer, but as

eyes turned

An hour later.

stopped inside a villa area called “Beverly Hills Villa

very quiet, and even at night, one could see

residence, Maureen immediately contacted Zoe and the others to report

“Zoe, where’s Jacob?”

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and

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