Misty City Old Street, Stone Mansions
In front of a century-old house, on a cobblestone path, a girl in a blue-and-white checkered school uniform stood with a schoolbag slung over her shoulder and a vintage floral umbrella in hand, pausing at the gate of a small yard enclosed by iron railings.
From the back, she was slender and tall, with long jet-black hair cascading down her waist, exuding an air of aloofness amid the continuous drizzle of the misty city.
Serena Cavendish (Serena Hall) turned the brass doorknob, pushed open the creaking yard gate, and stepped inside slowly.
An old lady sitting in the opposite yard caught sight of her and muttered to her daughter-in-law beside her, "That girl is really odd. She's lived here for half a year, never had any relatives come around, and never likes chatting with the neighbors."
"How about I take some nuts just picked from the vegetable garden to greet her?" the daughter-in-law suggested warmly.
"Forget it. I think she's unapproachable. Better not disturb her," the old lady brushed the raindrops off her shoulders and turned to go into the house.
Serena entered her own house, put down her schoolbag, and hung the damp umbrella on the carved hook at the entrance.
The seemingly quaint two-story house was decorated in a minimalist modern style inside. The polished floor was so shiny that it could reflect people's figures, and the custom-made furniture featured clean lines, being exquisite yet elegant, creating a striking contrast with the retro scenery outside.
She walked over to the built-in coffee machine and brewed herself a cup of black coffee with practiced ease. Then she picked up her exercise book, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, curled up in a rocking chair, and stared blankly at the drizzling rain outside.
The coffee steamed gently, the exercise book lay quietly on the small round table beside her, and the patter of rain sounded like a lingering violin solo, drawing her thoughts far away into the past.
"Ding-dong—Ding-dong—"
A sudden, urgent doorbell shattered the tranquility inside the house.
A moment later, the yard gate was pushed open from outside. Standing at the door was a middle-aged man in a crisp suit, holding a large black umbrella, with four burly bodyguards following behind him, exuding an imposing aura.
As soon as he saw Serena, the man bowed deeply immediately, his tone respectful to the point of deference, "Miss Serena, good day. I am the steward of the Cavendish family. After thorough verification, we have confirmed that you are the long-lost daughter of the family, missing for eighteen years. I am here by order of the Earl and Countess to take you home."
"Take me home?" Serena looked up, a flicker of confusion crossing her youthful and delicate face.
The steward quickly took out a DNA identification report from his briefcase, his expression solemn, "Miss Serena, the Earl and Countess have been searching for you for eighteen years. Please come back to the manor with us."
Serena took the report and flipped through it carefully.
The steward hung his head and stood aside, his eyes fixed on Serena's face cautiously. The girl had fully grown into a beauty—her skin was fair and translucent, her facial features were delicate like a painting, and the aloof charm between her brows was eight parts similar to the Countess in her youth.
He was certain that this time, there was absolutely no mistake.
After reading the report, Serena's long eyelashes fluttered slightly, her clear eyes calm and unruffled, "Give me time to pack my luggage. I'll depart tomorrow."
The steward had expected to have to persuade her at length, but he didn't anticipate her agreeing so readily. He glanced up at the girl, who was barely eighteen or nineteen years old, and an inexplicable sense of awe welled up in his heart.
At such a young age, facing the sudden truth about her identity, she could remain so composed, without a trace of joy or sorrow showing on her face.
On the fifth day of the third lunar month, the sky was clear and sunny.
Serena slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and boarded a black Rolls-Royce Phantom. Several identical luxury cars followed behind, and the bodyguards accompanying them were all tall and straight, with solemn expressions, making the onlookers step aside one after another.
Meanwhile, on a busy street in downtown London, a Maybach was waiting at a red light.
In the back seat of the luxury car sat a man in a custom-made dark suit, exuding an inherent air of nobility from head to toe. His facial features were sharp and distinct, and the deep black eyes beneath his sword-like eyebrows were as sharp and dangerous as a falcon's, radiating an icy aura that kept people at a distance.
At this moment, he was staring at the reply on his phone screen, and his handsome face instantly darkened.
The assistant sitting in the front passenger seat spoke cautiously, "Mr. Hall, that world-renowned top surgeon has explicitly declined your invitation. Our men have searched Manchester for three days but haven't found any leads at all. Her identity information is hidden extremely well—there must be top hackers helping her cover her tracks, otherwise we would have definitely tracked her down."
"My father's illness can't wait. Tell our men to keep searching, even if they have to turn every stone in the city. If they find her, under no circumstances should they make things difficult for her. I will go to visit her in person then." Nicholas Hall's voice was deep and magnetic, carrying an unquestionable authority. As the second young master of the Hall Group, holding half of the group's power, he had always been a decisive and resolute figure in the family's internal power struggle.
Nicholas Hall narrowed his eyes, his slender fingers tapping on the screen, sending another message to the mysterious top surgeon.
[Name your price. I will satisfy any request as long as you agree to treat my father.]
