Lance and Marilyn sat silently on either side of the hospital bed. The elderly man lying between them appeared peaceful as if lost in a deep sleep. Yet, his sunken cheeks and frail pallor betrayed the severity of his condition. On the left side of the bed, Lance sat stiffly. Opposite him, Marilyn remained poised, her hands resting lightly on her lap. Mother and son exchanged no words, their silence thick with unspoken emotion. Lance glanced at his mother. She seemed calmer now, no longer the picture of distress she had been earlier. Instead, she had reclaimed the dignified elegance that he always associated with her. His throat tightened. He shifted slightly, contemplating whether to break the heavy silence with a few words. Just as he leaned forward, Francesca entered the room, carrying a basin of warm water and a fresh towel. Her arrival disrupted his resolve, and he sank back into his chair without a word. Steven was bedridden all day and required constant care. Francesca had come to clean him, as usual. "I'll take care of it," Marilyn said suddenly, rising from her seat. She reached out and gently took the towel from Francesca's hands. "Mrs. Marilyn, let me do it," Francesca protested. "No, I can handle this better. You can go and take a rest." Marilyn shook her head gently and replied quietly, "How could I possibly find the heart to rest with the Johnstons in this state? Lying down doesn't help me sleep. I'd rather keep myself occupied. Please, leave it to me." Faced with her unwavering gaze, Francesca had no choice but to relent. She nodded and reluctantly handed over the towel to Marilyn. Upon hearing this, Lance who stood nearby, felt embarrassed. Anyone could tell her remarks weren't meant for Francesca alone. Since his father's passing, he had assumed the role of CEO at Johnston Enterprises, inheriting the weight of responsibility from his grandfather. Though he was now the family's pillar, he couldn't ignore the truth in his mother's unspoken accusation. In the past, Marilyn had always relied on his grandfather. However, his grandfather was now bedridden. As a result, she could rely solely on him. Lance felt in his heart that, as the last man remaining in the Jhonstons, what he did was truly inadequate. His jaw tightened as he stood there in silence. He had never truly felt the crushing weight of responsibility until now. Since the tragic car accident that claimed his father and older brother, life had thrown relentless waves of hardship at him. Funeral arrangements, corporate bankruptcy, his mother's illness, greedy relatives eyeing the CEO position, the expiration of crucial business contracts, and now his grandfather's critical condition. After facing so many things, Lance only felt tired; an endless exhaustion entangled him. Sitting by the hospital bed in the dimming light, Lance seemed to meld into the stillness surrounding him. His dark lashes trembled faintly, his sharp jawline was taut, and his lips, tinged with a pale bluish hue, curved slightly in a weary arc. Francesca noticed his worn-out state. "Mr. Johnston, since Mrs. Marilyn won't rest, perhaps you should. I can stay here with her." The young master had grown thinner, his exhaustion evident in every detail of his appearance. Lance raised his gaze at her words, his voice steady but firm, "No, thank you. It's my duty as a grandson to be here." He couldn't help but recall his recent failure. His trip to Preigh to seek the Daves' renowned doctor had ended fruitlessly. Guilt weighed heavily on him. Sitting here now, by his grandfather's side, was the least he could do, a small gesture of atonement. Seeing that she couldn't persuade him, Francesca sighed in resignation and quietly stepped back, retreating to the corner of the room. ... Meanwhile, Marilyn was meticulously wiping her father-in-law's face with a towel. Her movements were graceful, deliberate, and composed. Despite the fatigue etched into her features from endless sleepless nights, she still carried an air of timeless elegance, a beauty untouched by the passage of years. It reminded Lance of Addison. That same noble poise, the kind of composure that remained unshaken regardless of the chaos surrounding them. The thought of her made his expression darken. He pushed her image out of his mind with a grim determination and quickly spoke as if to distract himself. "Mom, I've decided to go to Kreshill. I'll seek out the Daves' doctor to treat Grandpa." Marilyn's hands paused mid-motion. For a moment, surprise flickered across her face. "Kreshill?" she echoed. Lance nodded, his expression calm and unyielding, as though he hadn't noticed her reaction. "Yes." "Do you know where is the Daves' location in Kreshill? It's not just about convincing the Daves' doctor; I doubt you could even find their location." Marilyn's skepticism was clear. She thought that Lance was chasing the impossible. "Virginia can help me," Lance replied evenly. "Virginia?" Marilyn's expression immediately darkened at the mention of that name. Disdain flickered in her eyes as she let out a cold chuckle. "And how exactly is she going to help you?" "She knows nothing. How could she possibly lead you to the Daves? All she's good at is using sweet words to deceive men." In her youth, she'd seen too many women like Virginia—flattering, manipulative, and superficial.Lance remained unmoved, his expression neutral, as though her accusations rolled off him like water off a stone. His mother had never liked Virginia, and he doubted she ever would. "Virginia is from the Daves' side branch. She can take me to their residence." The towel in Marilyn's hand froze mid-air. "Virginia is part of the Daves?" She blinked, her disbelief palpable. Does that woman relates to the Daves?! This is impossible! The Daves were a household renowned for their scholarly lineage and dignified reputation. How could someone like Virginia be associated with such a family? The very idea seemed absurd—even insulting. The more she thought about it, the more improbable it seemed. Lance anticipated her rebuttal. Before she could voice her doubts, he cut her off, his tone resolute, "Virginia's connection to the Daves is genuine. There's no mistake about it. We're leaving for Kreshill tomorrow, and I'll need you to stay and look after Grandpa while we're gone." "How can you be so sure of her identity?" Marilyn's tone was sharp with suspicion. "What if it's all a lie ... " Before she could finish, Lance abruptly rose from his chair. Then, he strode toward the door without another glance. He obviously didn't want to stay in this room and listen to his mother nagging. "Hey, where are you going?" Marilyn called after him, placing the towel aside and hurrying to follow. By the time she reached the doorway, Lance was already in the driver's seat. The roar of the engine and a trail of exhaust were all that remained of him. Marilyn stood on the doorstep, staring at the road as his car disappeared into the distance. Her hand fell to her side, helpless and heavy. ... The next morning, Virginia was still asleep when the sharp sound of knocking echoed through the apartment. Startled, Lana hurried to the door, her slippers slapping against the floor. Without even glancing at who was outside, she opened it and immediately launched into a scolding: "Who's making such a racket? Don't you know the rules? No knocking before ten! Are you new here? How could you not know this?" Virginia had a notoriously particular lifestyle, and her morning temper was infamous. If woken from her sleep, Lana knew she wouldn't have a moment's peace for the rest of the day.Therefore, Lana had warned everyone in the building countless times, and the tenants all respected this unspoken rule—never disturb Virginia in the morning. The figure at the door remained silent, utterly unmoved by her tirade. Annoyed, Lana raised her voice. "Didn't you hear me? Get out and come back after ten!" She reached out to shove the intruder away but froze mid-motion when her eyes finally landed on his face. That unusually handsome face appeared in front of her. Mr. Lance?! Lana gasped, her breath catching as fear flickered through her eyes. Her tone changed in an instant, "Mr. Lance, please, come in!" "No knocking before ten?" Lance's voice was cold, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. Lana stammered under his icy gaze, her nerves fraying. "Ah ... um, well, you see ... Ms. Dolton slept late last night, so I didn't want her rest disturbed. That's why I said that ... " She couldn't let Virginia's reputation crumble in front of Lance. If Virginia found out, Lana was certain that she would be doomed.Lance seemed to consider her explanation, though his expression remained unreadable. "Call Virginia. Tell her to get ready. We're going to Kreshill." "Yes, of course! Right away!" Lana bobbed her head repeatedly, eager to please. "Mr. Lance, won't you come inside while I call Ms. Dolton?" Clad in a dark coat that accentuated his tall, lean figure, Lance stood at the threshold. His cold, fox-like eyes glinted, and his chiseled features were framed by a faint frown. His lips, thin and sharp, seemed carved with a blade. "No," he replied flatly. He didn't step inside, not even so much as placing a foot across the threshold. His aloof demeanor and restrained posture were like those of a stranger visiting for the first time.