Caesar quietly guided Amara into the Anderson mansion, his steps calculated and discreet as they slipped past the curious eyes of the world outside. Amara, still in shock, moved without resistance, her body limp and silent, her eyes vacant. She looked like a shell of a person, barely present, as if the events of the day had hollowed her out completely. She had said nothing, her spirit seemingly broken.
The Anderson mansion’s grand entrance opened before them, its vast halls usually echoing with opulence and power. But today, the air inside was thick with tension. The servants, going about their daily routines, froze in place the moment they caught sight of Caesar.
But it wasn’t just their boss’s unexpected return that startled them—it was the figure he brought with him. Amara looked like
