<h4>Chapter 128: His mother, His sister...</h4>


    The banquet ended with warmughter and cheerful conversations. Davis felt like he was living in a fairytale—one with no room for sadness or pain. Being in a wheelchair didn’t seem to matter anymore. He felt at peace with the new found family.


    After dinner, they all went upstairs to a special room meant for rxing and socializing. It had a small karaoke stage and even a mini club setup. Be quickly took the mic and started singing with joy, her voice filling the room.


    One good thing about the mansion was that each of the building has its own purpose and arrangement that can solve whatever need one had at any point in time —The main reason why it serves as a hideout as one can be here and yet wouldn’t feel his out of touch with the world.


    Meanwhile, Jessica wheeled Davis into the room, followed by Richard and Elliot. At some point both men chose to sit aside and talk more privately. There was a lot Elliot wanted to know about Davis —out of curiosity and expectations.


    Elliot had always kept an eye on powerful families, quietly watching their business moves and personal scandals. But Davis had only joined the Allen family in the past decade, making it hard to get his full background. And truthfully, Elliot hadn’t paid the Allens much attention before—he had no reason to.


    But now that Davis was married to Jessica—his goddaughter—Elliot felt it was important to understand who the man truly was.


    As the two men chatted, Richard excused himself and went to his room to handle some unfinished work. But Jessica had suddenly gone missing. No one noticed when she left, and she hadn’te back.


    Davis tried to focus on the conversation, but his eyes kept drifting across the room, searching for her. She wasn’t there. The longer she stayed away, the more uneasy he felt.


    Every now and then, he would clench his hand tightly, as if expecting to find hers in it—but it was empty. He would sigh softly and look away, trying to shake off the feeling. But it didn’t help.


    He couldn’t believe it. Was he really bing this attached to her? Was he already used to having her by his side that it bes impossible not to?


    Elliot, watching Davis’s little gestures, couldn’t help but smile. The corner of his lips curled up with amusement.


    "I think he’s doing just fine," he mused to himself.


    "What are you really looking for?" Elliot asked with a teasing smile, noticing how Davis kept ncing around the room. "Your eyes have been scanning every corner."


    Caught off guard, Davis quickly looked away and swallowed hard. He tried his best to avoid Elliot’s sharp gaze, which felt like it could see right through him and into his soul.


    "N-Nothing," Davis replied, his voice slightly shaky. A light blush creeping up his face when Elliot let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused by his reaction.


    As Davis was still struggling with his thoughts, Elliot’s voice broke through again—calm, but thoughtful. "What was your mother’s favorite kind of music?" he asked, his eyes focused on Be, who was still enjoying the stage.


    Davis’s heart skipped a beat as Elliot’s sudden question lingered in the air. He blinked, uncertain why Elliot had brought up his mother out of nowhere. But somehow, the question stirred his emotion.


    He had always admired how his mother, though no longer with him, had given him the kind of love and care that most people could only dream of. That thought brought a subtle, bittersweet warmth to his chest. The memories of her always felt like a delicate treasure, so precious yet so fragile.


    "My mom?" Davis repeated, his voice a bit shaky as the past flooded his thoughts. He quickly straightened himself, pushing back the vulnerability and hurt that threatened to surface.


    He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to protect the memory of his mother like this—perhaps because it was one of the few things in his life that had always been constant and pure.


    She had been his rock, his shelter, and losing her had been the hardest thing he’d ever gone through. Yet, her memory was still so alive in his heart.


    A soft smile spread across Davis’s face as the memories of her came rushing back, the familiar feeling offort that her presence had always brought him. The edges of his sadness softened by fondness.


    "My mom loved music," he said, his voice lightening as he continued.


    "Her favorite genre was always pop music. She loved songs from Whitney Houston, Madonna, Rick Astley and so many of them." He continued with longing and admiration.


    She had a way of picking songs that matched the themes of whatever was going on in her life. I always found it amazing how music could reflect her mood in ways words never could." He concluded with a gentle gaze into the distance as he reveled the memories.


    As Davis spoke, he realized how much he missed her, how much he wished to cry on her shoulders.


    He couldn’t help but appreciate how her music choices had always mirrored her emotions giving him an understanding of who she is. It wasn’t just about the tunes or the catchy rhythms. It was about the way she connected with the songs, as though they were speaking directly to her heart.


    "When she was feeling down or upset," he continued, his voice taking on a more reflective tone, "she would listen to country or ssical music. It was like she needed the quiet, gentle rhythms of those genres to calm her nerves."


    There was a tenderness in his voice now, almost as if he were sharing a secret—a glimpse into the intimate, nurturing side of his mother.


    Davis knew that music had been more than a simple hobby for her; it was a source offort, a way for her to express the things she couldn’t always say out loud. And for Davis, those songs had always been the soundtrack to his childhood,forting him through difficult moments and marking the happiest times in his life.


    His smile faltered slightly as the weight of his mother’s absence settled in his chest. It was impossible topletely push away the pain, but he clung to these memories, holding them tightly as a way to keep her alive in his heart.


    At that moment, Elliot observed him quietly, his eyes shifting back to Be, who was now confidently belting out a pop song on the stage. "What a remarkable simrity?" He muttered under his breathe.


    All the while they are in this room, Be been singing a pop song. A proof of her having a deep liking for it but hearing Davis carefully exin his mother’s choice of music that blended perfectly with his long lost daughter Siri Ravensdale. Elliot’s demeanor shifted subtly, his eyes zed with the pain of loss.


    An unspoken understanding seems to settle between the two men at the moment. Davis was not just a powerful heir to the Allen fortune, not just a figure of control and authority. He was a man who had loved and lost, a man who still carried the weight of a mother’s love in his heart. That weight, though painful, had shaped him into who he was today.


    For Elliot, he was a man who had suffered from the loss of his most precious daughter in the hard crude way. Recalling the situation that had lead to her leaving the house at that time, Elliot felt his heart tightening with guiIt.


    Elliot’s gaze lingered on Be for a moment longer before he gave a soft sigh, his lips curling up in a small, knowing smile.


    For a fleeting moment, Davis felt an unexpected sense offort in Elliot’s quiet observation.


    As the night wore on, Davis nced back at the karaoke stage, his gaze lingering on Be for just a moment as she continued to sing her heart out on stage, Davis found himself lost in thought.


    It wasn’t just the music that had drawn him in, but the warmth of the moment —the sense of belonging he hadn’t realized he was missing.


    Be’s voice and image on the karaoke stand seemed to merge with the Be in his memory. "Sister," he called quietly. How he wished she was his sister whom he had lost and searched for.


    The restlessness he had been feeling earlier, his unshakable sense that a blood rtion was missing seemed to ease in her presence. Perhaps this was what he had been searching for all along—a sense of peace, of connection.


    At that moment, a ridiculous thought shed through his memory "Why not let her be his sister, a sworn sister?".


    Davis could only smile in return, his heart a little lighter, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope.