Chapter 8

Valerius's private Gulfstream G650 pierced through the clouds, heading toward the other side of the ocean.

Alaric was curled up in the leather seat, clutching the brand-new drawing board Valerius had just given him. He didn't cry or make a fuss, but his eyes still held the lingering panic of a survivor.

"Mommy, where exactly are we going?" He lifted his small head, a patch of gauze still taped to it, and looked out at the endless sea of clouds with confusion.

I squeezed his cold little hand, my voice gentle but firm. "Alaric, Uncle Valerius is taking us to Sicily. There is sunshine, vineyards, and a new home just for us."

"Sicily?" Alaric lowered his head, his long lashes trembling. "Can Daddy still find us there? If he can't find us, will he be mad?"

Hearing the child mention "Daddy," my heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, releasing a sour wave of guilt.

I pulled him into my arms and wiped the tear stains from the corners of his eyes. "Alaric, forget him. From today on, you don't need to try to please anyone. Mommy will make sure you get the finest gentleman's education. You will grow up to be a real man, not a hypocritical coward like him."

After a flight of over ten hours, we landed at a private airport in Palermo.

A black Rolls-Royce drove us along the winding coastline, finally pulling into an ancient manor hidden deep within olive groves.

I carried the sleeping Alaric out of the car. The evening breeze of Sicily, carrying the scent of sea salt, brushed against my face, stirring up memories I had sealed away long ago.

"Do you remember this scent?" Valerius walked up to me and handed me an exquisitely crafted paintbrush. "Ivy, this is where your dreams began. Five years ago, you clipped your own wings for that man and stopped painting. Now, it's time to pick them up again."

I took the brush, my fingertips trembling slightly.

Yes, five years ago.

Back then, as the most talented student at the art academy, I gave up a full scholarship to study in Paris just to be with Caspian. I even cut ties with the foster parents who had adopted me, willing to become a lowly housekeeper by his side.

My foster mother had cried and cursed me over the phone. "Ivy, are you crazy? That man doesn't care about you at all. You're giving up a bright future for him. You'll regret this sooner or later!"

But I was stubborn, thinking that as long as I stayed by Caspian's side, I could eventually warm his heart of stone.

Who knew that aside from Isolde, Caspian wouldn't love anyone? He was even willing to send his own flesh and blood to a lab for Isolde's child!

"Caspian..." I hugged Alaric tighter, the last bit of warmth in my eyes completely extinguished. I would never forgive him!

Valerius saw the hatred in my eyes and sighed softly. But what he said next was like a thunderclap exploding in my ears.

"Ivy, there are things you need to know. You always thought you were abandoned, but you weren't."

He pointed to the massive family crest on the manor gates—it was identical to the pattern on the rusty brooch my mother had left me!

"You are the only lost bloodline of the Magnus family, a reclusive European financial dynasty on par with the Rothschilds," Valerius said, his voice deep and powerful. "Decades ago, enemies of the Magnus family kidnapped you during the chaos. And your mother... she was the love of Mr. Magnus's life."

I was too shocked to speak.

"Go in," Valerius pushed open the heavy oak doors. "He's waiting for you."

Walking through the corridor lined with masterpieces, I saw an old man in a wheelchair in the study at the end of the hall.

Although his hair was silver, his eyes were still as sharp as a hawk's—the kind of imposing presence developed from years of sitting in a high position.

"My child..." When that familiar yet strange voice reached me, I couldn't hold back anymore. Tears burst from my eyes.

"Father."

Magnus looked at my tear-stained face, and then at Alaric in my arms, who was frowning even in his sleep, covered in wounds.

"..." Alaric was woken by the noise. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked at the majestic old man in front of him.

"Is this... my grandson?" Magnus reached out a trembling hand, stroking the shocking needle marks and bruises on Alaric's arm—traces left by the kidnappers, and proof of Caspian's cold-bloodedness.

The old man's hand shook violently, and the kindness in his eyes instantly turned into a monstrous rage.

"Bastard!" He slammed his hand on the armrest, his voice echoing in the empty study. "That piece of trash named Caspian dared to torture my daughter and grandson like this!"

"Father, I..." I choked up, overcome with shame. "I was a poor judge of character..."

"No, this isn't your fault." Magnus pulled my hand over, looking at my rough knuckles and the rope burns on my wrists, his eyes reddening. "We let you suffer out there. But from today on, no one will dare to bully you again."

He turned his head and issued a cold order to the butler behind him, his tone carrying an unquestionable dominance.

"Mobilize our global resources. Immediately erase every trace of Ivy and Alaric in New York from the last few years. I want that man to turn the world upside down and not be able to find a single hair on their heads!"

"Also," the old man's eyes turned dark and dangerous, "get everything ready. Since that scumbag likes to play games with power and money, I'll show him what real capital looks like."

I looked at my father's angry profile, and a long-lost warmth surged in my heart.

It turned out I wasn't an unwanted weed after all.

I lowered my head and gently kissed Alaric's forehead. "Baby, don't be afraid. From now on, no one can ever hurt us again."