?Chapter 1535:


    Cade winced as the words thundered through the line. Only then did he fully grasp that he had mishandled both sides of the situation. “I’m sorry. Give me a moment—I’ll exin everythingter.” He cut the call and began pacing, searching for a way to salvage the mess.


    At that exact moment, Maia’s name lit up his screen.


    Cade’s fingers trembled, and the phone nearly slipped from his grasp. He steadied himself and answered.


    “Tell me where and when we meet.” Maia’s voice was even and decisive, free of doubt or usation.


    Cade froze. Every excuse he had prepared dissolved from his mind. After a few seconds, he finally managed, “O-okay. I’ll send you the location and time shortly.”


    Only after the call ended did the full weight of what had just happened settle over him, his back soaked in cold sweat. Hurst clearly hadn’t confessed—which meant Maia had caught the lie and chosen to trust his investigation instead. That level of perception surpassed even his own, despite his years as a reconnaissance soldier. Shock lingered, followed by a quiet surge of respect.


    This was exactly what one would expect from the granddaughter of General Watson.


    Cade wasted no time dialing Dominic to pass along the long-awaited news.


    Once Cade sent the time and location, Maia made her decision to go.


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    She slipped into a fitted ckbat jacket—practical and sleek, made for swift movement. Siena ran a quick check over the equipment at Maia’s waist, gaze sharp, then fell in beside her. She would be the one behind the wheel and the shield at Maia’s side.


    The vehicle cut through Wront’s lively streets at speed. Neon signs streamed past the windows, painting the night in shifting colors. Maia stared at the city blurring past, her mind tangled with restless thoughts, her fingers twisting the edge of her jacket without her noticing.


    Back when she lived with the Morgan family, there had been a stretch of warmth—a time when Vicki taught her what it meant to belong. After discovering she was never truly a Morgan, her thoughts had often drifted to her real parents and grandparents. What came instead was a merciless truth: they had been gone for years.


    Now, without warning, a man iming to be her biological grandfather had surfaced.


    Maia found herself imagining what he might be like—whether he was severe, what kind of man he was. What was she even supposed to call him? Grandfather? Did that sound too sudden? She still couldn’t understand why he would appear only now, after all these years. Did he know the truth behind her parents’ deaths—what had really happened back then?


    Anticipation, yearning, bitterness, and unease churned together like a brewing storm in her chest. The calm mask she always wore finally fractured, exposing the girl beneath—still aching, after everything, to belong to someone.


    The car rolled to a stop before a luxurious five-star hotel. On the surface, the lobby looked perfectly ordinary—guests chatted casually, reception staff processed check-ins, and cleaners buffed the marble floors. Yet an invisible strain lingered in the air.


    Siena swept the surroundings, her brows knitting at once. “Stay alert,” she murmured close to Maia’s ear. “I’ve marked targets at three o’clock, eleven o’clock, and six.”


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