?Chapter 1536:


    Marc stayed quiet for a long while before he finally spoke. “Ste is part of the Carter family too. William will not touch them — but my mother is different. If something goes wrong, she will be the first person he goes after.”


    Regardless of everything Jazlyn had done wrong in the past, and despite how poorly she had treated Ste, she was still his mother. For more than twenty years, she had raised him. He could not bring himself to leave her behind. At this point, William hadpletely lost his sense of reason — there was no line he would refuse to cross.


    Silence settled over Nina. When a long moment passed, she finally gave in. “Alright. I will make arrangements for your mother. But if you fail, she will not be spared either. Do you understand me?”


    This time, Nina refused to walk the same road she once had. She had ced too much trust in Amon, and that blind faith was exactly how both he and William had toyed with her. In her eyes, Marc’s mother was nothing more than leverage, and she was determined to use it carefully.


    With his lips pressed into a thin line, Marc replied, “Alright. I will make sure to take Ste far away from William.”


    Only then did Nina release a quiet breath. “There is one more thing. Amon is standing with William now. Do not contact him again.”


    Marc stiffened. In that instant, he remembered Amon’s visit from a few days earlier — the odd questions he had asked about Nina, the strange way he had fixated on who was supporting her. Everything made sense now. From the very beginning, Amon had already chosen William’s side.


    Once the call with Nina ended, Marc went straight home and told Jazlyn to pack her belongings and prepare to leave the country.


    Jazlyn stared at him in disbelief. “I have spent most of my life in Choria. Where do you expect me to go at my age?” She refused outright. Lately, she had barely seen her son at all — only watched him grow more obsessed with Ste to the point of losing all sense. Now he wanted to send her abroad. The bitterness she felt toward Ste sharpened, and she said, “Son, can you not just let Ste be? She does not even care about you. Why must you keep pushing this?”


    Marc did not respond to a single word. After giving Jazlyn his instructions, he turned away and continued making his arrangements.


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    Meanwhile, at the Riverside Vis, Ste stood in the kitchen alongside Tasha.


    Since William’s lower back injury had yet to heal, Ste believed that proper nourishment would help. She had asked Tasha to teach her how to prepare soup. “Tasha, will he return sometime today?”


    After tasting the broth, Tasha smiled reassuringly. “Do not worry, Ms. Russell. I will call Mr. Briggs shortly and tell him there is a situation at home. He wille back.”


    Warm evening light poured in through the kitchen window. Still wearing her apron, Ste carefully switched off the stove and ced the lid over the pot. Tasha stepped out to make the call, leaving Ste alone in the kitchen.


    The memory of William’s injured back, soaked in blood, lingered in her thoughts and pressed heavily against her chest. Many people said that severe injuries required a long period of rest, yet William had returned to work the very next day, as though the wound meant nothing at all.


    She understood that a simple bowl of hot soup would not solve the problem. At one point, she even imagined him dismissing it without a nce — and from time to time, his harsh and cutting remarks resurfaced in her mind, striking like des. Even so, she still wanted to make the effort.


    When Tasha came back, she was smiling. “Mr. Briggs mentioned that he will be home tonight.”


    A trace of surprise crossed Ste’s face. “Tasha, what exactly did you tell him? Did you let him know I cooked soup?”


    Tasha shook her head. “No. He appeared to be in the middle of a meeting, so I kept it brief. I only asked whether he would return tonight.”


    That answer eased Ste’s tension slightly. Had William already known about the soup, she would have felt even more unsettled. It was better to wait until he came home.


    Tasha lifted the lid again, leaned close to the pot, and breathed in the aroma. Her smile widened. “This timing could not be better. Mr. Briggs has always had a sensitive stomach, and he usually prefers something light — just like this chicken soup.”


    At the mention of William’s stomach, an odd sense of familiarity stirred inside Ste, as though she had heard the same thing from someone long ago. No matter how much she searched her memory, however, the source refused to surface.


    Her gaze settled on the pot of chicken soup resting quietly before her, and the faint hope she carried in her heart grew a little stronger. She hoped it would be to his taste.


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