Chapter 83

Evelyn tapped her fingers lightly against the car window. The glass reflected her slightly furrowed brows.

Sophia's question pricked at her heart like a thorn.

"Two possibilities," she murmured. "Either no one has seen the real painting, or..." She paused. "The current holder can't decipher its secrets."

The Renaissance Masterpiece weighed heavily in her bag.

Those blood-red markings concealed something powerful enough to overturn certain fates.

In this world, only two people could unravel its mystery—Alexander Durand and her.

Even the Durand siblings remained oblivious to its hidden meaning.

This was a secret she would take to her grave—at least for now.

The Durand massacre was an unsolved enigma. Four years of investigation had yielded nothing.

Until that group photo surfaced in Vincent Langley's possession.

Returning to Vienna was a calculated risk.

After four years infiltrating the Valentine Group, she had rubbed shoulders with countless elites, yet the killer's trail remained cold.

The serpent at the center of the storm only emerged when the winds died down.

"We're here," Sophia said, braking smoothly.

Evelyn shook her head. "Stay with the car." She glanced at the Langley estate gates. "Thirty minutes."

Vincent Langley was a cunning fox, but far easier to handle than Adrian Valentine.

Just thinking of Adrian sent a sharp pang through her chest.

The phantom pain of nails piercing her knees resurfaced from her last visit.

"Keep an eye on Dominic," she said coldly.

Sophia gritted her teeth. "I'll cripple him one day."

The doorbell chimed three times before Isabella's smiling face appeared.

"Evelyn!"

The living room lights made Evelyn squint.

Then she saw the man on the sofa—and her breath caught.

Adrian's slender fingers rested on his knees, his black turtleneck accentuating his pale complexion. When he lifted his gaze, the storm brewing in his eyes reminded her of turbulent seas before a tempest.

"Adrian came specifically to wait for you," Isabella chirped, snuggling close to him.

Evelyn chose the farthest armchair.

Light refracted through crystal glasses, casting dancing reflections on her hand.

Isabella practically draped herself over Adrian's arm. "We were supposed to go to a French restaurant."

Watching their intertwined figures, Evelyn tasted iron in her throat.