?Chapter 834:


    Then she examined the photos of Reggie and Justin. Reggie’s appearances were close to Ivy’s locations. Justin, on the other hand, seemed more audacious, frequently seen in Silverdale over the past five years. He was either working or visiting red-light districts. He seemed unconcerned with surveince cameras at all.


    With narrowed eyes, Norah stared at the saved videos on herputer, strategizing her next move. Now that she knew the whereabouts of Ivy’s family, a n of action crystallized in her mind—capture Justin and squeeze out the information.


    Norah quickly pulled out her phone to request a leave of absence from Toby. Simultaneously, she opened a delivery app, efficiently arranging for the tools she needed.


    Just as she finalized her preparations, an email arrived from Rex. Gratitude spilled from his words, thanking her for treating Eloisa. Relief washed over Norah as he confirmed their safe return to their homnd and Eloisa’s continued recovery.


    Memories flickered—Eloisa’s post-surgery rest in the hospital before their departure. The surgery had been a sess, and Eloisa’s memory remained intact. Norah resisted the urge to reply. Her reputation as a sought-after and aloof doctor demanded carefulmunication. After all, every patient she’d treated in Silverdale had recovered—and a hefty sum had found its way into her bank ount afterward.


    Those funds became her personal stock market yground. Meticulously analyzed stocks formed a significant portion of her wealth. Abroad, she’d amassed a fortune through abination of organizationalmissions and her savvy investments. Taking stock, Norah realized her assets now equaled a third of the Wilson family’s fortune. This, of course, excluded her hidden stash—remnants from the Carter family, a defiant act against them in the past.


    But that was a closed chapter; Norah wouldn’t dwell on it.


    At the Cloud Club, amidst the hazy, colorful lights, Coen revealed a different side of himself. Two women joined him for drinks, their physical charms the focus of his attention.


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    “Did you get in touch with Madeline during your trip? My wife says Madeline’s been distraught at home. Don’t you care?” Derek scoffed, the drink swirling in his ss. “Every call is a financial plea—hundreds of thousands of dors, without a thought for my situation. Am I just an ATM to her?”


    The escorts’ eyes gleamed. A few thousand was a far cry from Madeline’s demands.


    Coen nodded, hands still wandering. “Madeline’s spoiled by both me and her mother. You have to be patient.”


    Derek recalled Coen’s words when he first met Madeline’s parents—words urging him to treat their daughter well. Yet, it was Coen who had brought him to the club and ordered escorts.


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