Last Mission ABO Dimension.

Days later...

Elizabeth steered the conversation with her usual poise. Her precisely chosen words struck a perfect balance between courtesy and caution. The soft aroma of freshly brewed tea mingled with the perfume of the flowers, but even that couldn't mask the latent tension in the air.

"Taylor is recovering well, thanks to Greta's tireless care and, of course, her own resilience," said Elizabeth, offering the young woman an encouraging smile—a shield against adversity. Greta, seated beside her daughter, nodded, her eyes glistening as she clasped her hands in her lap, as if fighting to contain her emotions.

"We are grateful for every small step forward," murmured Greta, her voice thick with emotion. "Taylor has shown incredible strength despite everything that has happened."

Beatrice tilted her head slightly, her expression carefully measured yet tinged with a warmth that Taylor immediately recognized as insincere. "It's a relief to see her so strong. What happened was a tragedy—for all of us," Beatrice remarked, pausing just long enough for her words to resonate in everyone's minds. "But I believe fate binds us in mysterious ways, and it is our duty to overcome these difficult times together. I am certain that those responsible will pay for their actions."

Taylor remained silent, but something in Beatrice's tone set her mind racing. It was almost impossible not to connect the woman's cold, calculating demeanor with the distrust she harbored. It was her. I'm sure it was her. The thought cut through her like a sharp blade, but she knew she couldn't voice it—not now. Not to anyone. Unthinkable, she repeated to herself, trying to maintain a serene expression while a storm of emotions brewed within her.

The conversation flowed for some time, delicate as a stream but with dangerous undercurrents just below the surface. When the topic shifted to family matters, Beatrice adjusted her tone, adopting an air of calculated vulnerability.

"Elizabeth, I think it's time we were frank," Beatrice began, her gaze fixed on their hostess. "You know we recently discovered that Aster is Jared's son. That makes him Clarice and Oliver's half-brother." She paused dramatically, as if gauging each person's reaction before continuing. "As delicate as this is, I believe there is a greater reason behind these revelations. It is fate. This was meant to be, and now it is our duty to address it and rebuild our relationships."

A heavy silence fell over the garden. Greta gasped softly, her fingers gripping the fabric of her dress, while Elizabeth maintained her impeccable composure. Only the glint of fierce protectiveness in her eyes betrayed her calm as she responded.

"Yes, Beatrice. It's a revelation no one could have foreseen. But to us, Aster and Damián are brothers at heart—not just through the life they've shared but through the family they've become. And, as you might imagine, this brings the Kadman even closer to the Phillips."

Clarice, who had remained still until that moment, lowered her gaze, pretending to adjust a bracelet. But inside, a whirlwind of resentment swelled. He doesn't belong here, she thought, her mind screaming silently. Aster stole everything from me—Callum, my place. Yet she maintained her impeccable composure, as though nothing had changed.

Sensing the weight of the moment, Beatrice shifted the focus, showcasing her skill at steering emotions. "This is precisely why I believe events like the Golden Leaf Tournament in the mountains would be the perfect opportunity to strengthen the bonds between our families. A relaxed setting is exactly what we all need."

Elizabeth tilted her head thoughtfully, her lips curving into a controlled smile. "An interesting proposal, Beatrice. I think it would be an excellent opportunity for everyone to connect—especially the Williams, given Benjamin's delicate situation."

Taylor, who had remained silent until now, felt a pang of discomfort. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine being at the center of these interactions, as she had always believed she should be. But reality pulled her back: It's always about Damián, she thought, suppressing the sigh threatening to escape.

When the conversation turned to security, Beatrice seized the moment to assert her position. "Given recent events, my husband has hired an elite security team. They are prepared to handle any situation."

Elizabeth nodded, her expression growing serious. "Security is undoubtedly a priority. My main concern is Taylor. She has already endured more than enough."

When the visit came to an end, Elizabeth escorted Beatrice and Clarice to the door, maintaining her elegant and cautious demeanor. "Thank you for visiting, Beatrice. I hope we can continue to work together to ensure a safer future," she said, her tone firm yet polite.

Beatrice shook Elizabeth's hand, her smile flawless but devoid of warmth. "Of course. It's what we all want."

As Beatrice waited with the security team in the entrance hall, Clarice hesitated, her eyes fixed on Taylor, who remained seated in the winter garden. The young Campbell seemed to assess the scene for a moment, as though weighing a decision she had already made. Then she turned to Beatrice.

"Mother, could you give me a moment? I'd like to say goodbye to Taylor."

Beatrice arched a brow slightly but nodded gracefully. Clarice walked back to the garden, her footsteps echoing softly on the marble floor. Taylor looked up as Clarice approached, her eyes still bearing the shadow of the trauma she carried.

Clarice stopped beside her, leaning slightly closer. Her lips curved into a smile that appeared sweet on the surface, but there was something unsettling in the gleam of her eyes. She lightly touched Taylor's arm, as if the contact was meant to be comforting.

"Taylor," Clarice began, her voice smooth as silk. "I know this has all been… a nightmare for you. But don't worry." Her hand tightened slightly on Taylor's arm, though her touch remained gentle. "I'll help you get back what's yours."

Taylor frowned slightly, sensing a dark edge to Clarice's words. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice faltering.

Clarice tilted her head slightly, her eyes never leaving Taylor's. "Adam, of course. You deserve to be with him. You always have. And I'll make sure no one—no one—stands in your way."

The tone of her voice was gentle, but the coldness accompanying her words made Taylor shiver slightly. Clarice moved closer, her fingers sliding from Taylor's arm to lightly clasp her hand.

"You don't need to be afraid," Clarice continued, her smile widening ever so slightly. "I'll take care of everything. And when this is all over, it'll be just like before. The way it was always meant to be."

Taylor swallowed hard, trying to shake off the oppressive feeling Clarice's words brought. For a moment, she thought about responding, but the strength to do so eluded her. Pain and exhaustion still weighed too heavily on her.

Clarice gave Taylor's hand a light pat before straightening up, adjusting her dress with a fluid motion. "Rest, dear. You'll need your energy for what's to come. And sometimes, the best things require… difficult decisions. Sacrifices."

Without waiting for a response, Clarice turned and walked back to the entrance hall, where Beatrice and Elizabeth were waiting. Taylor remained motionless, tension building in her body as Clarice's words echoed in her mind. Something had shifted. Something dark lurked behind that promise of help.

When Clarice reached the doorway, Elizabeth noticed nothing amiss in her expression. Beatrice gave Elizabeth one last look, a triumphant smile lighting her features as she and Clarice bid farewell and left the Kadman Mansion.

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Beatrice and Clarice's departure unfolded in a calculated manner, as though every word was a carefully placed piece on the social chessboard. At the Kadman Mansion, formalities were as essential as the fine porcelain used for tea. Elizabeth, ever the meticulous hostess, kept everything under control, though not even she could compel Damián and Mason to fully engage in the visit.

Damián had politely declined the invitation to attend from the start, citing that he wasn't feeling well—a convenient excuse tinged with truth. His mind was a chaotic mess, burdened by ancient secrets and the unexpected proximity of Benjamin Williams. Mason, loyal and ever inclined to follow protocol, silently disapproved of Damián's absence.

However, upon learning that the visit was nearing its end, Damián felt obligated to at least make an appearance—a gesture of respect for Elizabeth's dedication to maintaining the Kadman family's flawless facade. Reluctantly, he made his way down the long corridor alongside Mason, their boots echoing on the cold marble floor.

"Why didn't we come earlier?" Mason asked, casting a reproachful glance his way. "Elizabeth does so much for all of us. The least you could do is show up from the beginning."

Damián sighed, offering no response. Mason, irritated by the silence, adjusted his collar with a sharp motion. "You know how much Elizabeth values appearances. Don't give anyone the impression that you don't care, Damián. It only fuels those who want to see you fail."

Damián didn't argue. His focus drifted, his eyes scanning every detail around them as they walked. He knew Mason was right, but the demons of his past were a difficult company to ignore.

When they arrived at the hall, the visit was already wrapping up. Elizabeth, as always, orchestrated the goodbyes with an almost artistic finesse, exchanging cordial words with Beatrice and Clarice. Damián stayed on the periphery, greeting the visitors with a slight nod—a more symbolic act than a genuine interaction.

Everything seemed in order until something disrupted the natural flow of the scene.

Damián saw the security guard.

Standing near the entrance, the man looked as ordinary as anyone in his position: a flawless black suit, an impassive expression, a rigid posture. But something about his face made time freeze for Damián. His heart skipped a beat, and the air seemed to leave his lungs.

"Tetsu Sakae."

The name echoed in his mind like a blow. His eyes widened slightly, but he fought to maintain his composure. Quickly, he turned his face away, struggling to suppress the shock coursing through him. This isn't possible. He's dead. I killed him.

Memories stormed through his mind like lightning in a tempest. Years ago, in the darkest days of his life, Damián had been contracted to eliminate Tetsu Sakae, a so-honbucho of the gokudō mafia who oversaw operations in Hawaii. The mission had been brutal and bloody, but successful. Damián had personally ensured Tetsu's death—a feat that had solidified his reputation as one of the deadliest assassins for hire.

And yet, here he was, alive and in the same dimension as him.

Mason noticed the sudden change in Damián's demeanor. "Are you okay?" he asked, keeping his voice low and discreet, his concern evident.

Damián shook his head slightly, the muscles in his jaw tight as he tried to regain control. "I'm fine," he murmured, though his voice betrayed the tension that consumed him.

His eyes, however, couldn't help but drift back to Tetsu. The man seemed oblivious, but Damián knew that calmness was a mask.

Tetsu, for his part, appeared not to have noticed Damián—or, if he had, he was skilled enough not to show it. His gaze wandered over the surroundings with the professional calm of an experienced bodyguard. But Damián knew better. This man wasn't just an ordinary security guard. If he was here, with Beatrice, it could only mean one thing: something much larger was at play.

Damián took a deep breath, trying to focus on the farewells continuing around him, but Tetsu's presence was an unshakable shadow. He knew he had to maintain his composure. Yet, deep down, a terrible truth pulsed in his mind: the past from another world had returned, more alive than ever.