I seek out Dad toward the end of the celebration, requesting a moment of privacy.
 Dad doesn't hesitate in taking me toward his study, perhaps sensing from my expression that whatever I have to say is serious and shouldn't be overheard by a third party. 
Dad's study has soundproofed walls, which is where he spends most of the day. I surmise it's the place where he conducts his investigations and other business as well.
 I close the door firmly behind me and follow him to the center of the room, where a private seating area is located across from his desk. 
The study is a replica of his office at the company, with a spacious layout that accommodates several shelves of records and ample space to move around. The windows are obscured by heavy drapes, and the room is well-lit with fluorescent lights fixed into the ceiling. The space is also adorned with artworks and features sleek, modern aesthetics.
 Dad gives me his undivided attention once we have our seats. "Is this about your mother?" he inquires.
 He guessed correctly, but I worry that he might think I've suspected him of leaking the news about Mom's location to the press.
 "Did you tell them?" I ask just to confirm. 
Dad shakes his head. "You know I wouldn't do that."
 "Do you have any idea who leaked the information to the reporters, then?"
 His expression becomes grim. I see the spark of knowledge in his eyes. I know he's aware of the source, but he doesn't share the information. 
My eyes narrow further as I consider who it possibly could be. With Dad's expression, it's undeniable that the leak came from his side, not mine. And my suspicion narrows down on one person – "Is it Beatrice?"
 Dad looks at me, his expression remaining unreadable. 
"Tell me if she's behind the leak, Dad. Mom's in danger of being targeted again if she's the one." 
Dad's eyes furrow. "Again?" 
"Beatrice attempted to harm her once," I growl. "She's the reason Mom ended up in her current state."
 Dad straightens in his chair. "What do you mean by that?"
 "She's behind Mom's disappearance all these years. She tried to kill her. I've been investigating with the police since she was found. A witness rescued Mom that night, but her current condition is the result of her fall. Evidence implicates Beatrice as the perpetrator of Mom's attempted assassination 13 years ago."
 A distraught look crosses Dad's face. He doesn't deny it or defend his wife after hearing the words. He's aware of what his wife is capable of doing. 
"She's the one," he confirms, his head hanging low.
 I purse my lips, my eyes fixed on him, taking in his defeated posture. I hadn't intended to ruin his mood today, but I had to prepare him for the police's visit tomorrow morning.
"She has been tracking my movements. She's been quite discreet about it to avoid my notice; otherwise, I wouldn't have led her to your mother again. I'm sorry, Aiden. It's my fault that Violet ended up the way she is. It's my fault again that her safety has been compromised." 
"Not this time." I've tightened Mom's security, ensuring that no one can gain access to her ward unless it's her attending physician, Dr. Meyer. Under no circumstances should the guards stationed to protect her be less than two meters away from her. I've had security personnel positioned in every potential hiding spot that an assailant could use to slip past the notice of the guards in the hall and harm Mom. I had been incapable of protecting her in the past, but this time, I'm taking no chances. "The police are coming over tomorrow morning to arrest her." I rise from my seat, having stated the purpose of my visit. "I trust that you won't attempt to tip her off." 
Dad raises one eyebrow. "You think little of me, son." 
"Trust is a commodity I find it hard to extend," I remark, my voice slicing through the air.
 Dad nods in understanding, rising to his feet as well. "Thanks for informing me prior to the arrest. I appreciate the gesture."
 I begin to head out to the door when Dad calls me again.
 "Aiden."
 I stop walking, half-turning to face him. 
"Extend my sincerest apologies to Violet," he expresses, his self-criticism apparent on his face.
 I nod firmly and open the door, exiting the room and leaving the house too. I trust Jordan to get back to me with confirmation that the task has been completed.
****
HERMIONE 
The news of Beatrice's arrest is far-reaching. She is the culprit behind Aiden's biological mother's condition. I am returning from the doctor's conference when the notification pops up on my screen.
 My thoughts turn to Aiden and the turmoil he must be experiencing right now. He already has a lot on his plate. Although it will be satisfying to see justice served for the person responsible for his mother's poor health, he will still be distressed nonetheless.
I step out of the building, into the chilly night air. The climate here is significantly colder than in Phoenix. I've had to shop for warmer clothes since my arrival, not having anticipated the degree of coldness with the initial outfits I brought along.
 I move towards one of the elevated circular platforms and sit down. I take out my phone from my pocket, feeling the temperature dropping and the chill of the night air on my body. But I had to stay outside; I've been cooped up indoors all day, attending to various medical tasks: observing a complex surgical procedure, assisting in another, and participating in a doctor's conference.
 If I thought the work pace in Phoenix was demanding, the routines here are even more rigorous. Medical professionals are often kept on their toes with a high volume of patients requiring acute care. However, the precision and order with which they handle their tasks are commendable. They all work with practiced efficiency, complete their duties in a timely manner, and anticipate the next task. 
This is one of the Watson Foundation's international outposts, established as an expansion of the original foundation in Phoenix, and I'm inclined to remark that their response to their duties surpasses that of the professionals back home. Perhaps it's because they're highly skilled, or maybe it's due to their work environment; regardless, I haven't encountered any unprofessional or overly deferential individuals.
 I've been here for less than a week, and I still have a long period to stay and gain further insight into the intricacies of their operations beyond the initial impression.
 I dial Aiden's number and raise the phone to my ear. The phone hums as I wait for the call to be answered. I tug my fur coat closer to my body, a shiver coursing through me.
 "The person you're trying to reach is not available at the moment to pick up your call. Please try again later or..." I interrupt the dulcet voice of the service provider and end the call. I try his number again after a brief moment, only to receive a similar response. 
Exhaling a plume of breath into the cold air, I get to my feet, dipping my hands, with the phone still inside, into the pockets of my knee-length coat, and step back inside.
 I need a cup of warm coffee to warm myself up.
****
AIDEN
"You bastard," Lachlan snarls, attacking me the moment he reaches my side. His punch lands squarely on my chin, eliciting a chorus of gasps from the women present in the company's parking lot.
 I flex my jaw, the pain momentarily blinding me. 
It's the day after Dad's birthday. His mother had been arrested that morning, and the news had gone viral. Meanwhile, I had sat in my office, immersing myself in plans and agendas for my businesses and life. 
Once I confirmed Beatrice's arrest on the news, gauging the impact and backlash she had received worldwide, I turned off the TV, losing interest in following up on the report. 
The goal had been accomplished, but it was too early to celebrate the victory. Her accomplices were still at large, and Beatrice could still attempt retaliation from confinement. Although measures had been put in place to ensure Mom's safety, unless the other collaborators were apprehended, my mind couldn't be fully settled.
Lachlan hadn't been present in the office all day, and I discerned that he had been taken by surprise by his mother's arrest, hence he had been seeking to salvage the situation. 
However, Beatrice's case was a done deal. Dad had given me his word that he wouldn't extend his support to her. Beatrice had had it coming for a long time.
"You're the one who did this," Lachlan growls, fisting the collar of my shirt in a chokehold. 
I tug at his firm grip on my neck and yank his hand off. I adjust my jaw with a mild wince; he packs a powerful punch. I begin to walk away, but when I sense he's about to punch me again, I swivel sharply, my fist connecting with his jaw as hard as his had hit mine. 
His face rocks sideways, and he staggers back a step from the impact. The act of violence elicits another chorus of gasps from the onlookers.
They are all prepared to leave as it's the close of work hours. However, they all hang by their respective car doors, watching the scene of the Mendes Group brothers' altercation. 
Words boil on my tongue, eager to be unleashed at Lachlan, but we're in the open. I'm not about to expose more of our family's dirty secrets to these people, more than they've already known. I should be incensed with Lachlan, not vice versa. 
His mother was behind my mother's critical condition. She left a shell behind of the vibrant mother I had once known and adored, yet dined with me daily and brandished insults at me, despite the atrocity she had committed against my mom. I did her a favor by having her arrested. 
If there was no penalty for murder, I would have taken matters into my own hands and ensured that her acts against my mother were met with similar consequences. She shouldn't die either and spend the rest of her life living the way Mom had been existing – like an undead.
"You're lucky we have an audience," I growl in a low tone. "I would have enjoyed thrashing you soundly. You bastards are responsible for my mother's condition, and you think you can get away with it? You forget that no matter how hard you try to bury the truth, it will always prevail." I step closer to him, watching blood stream down from his nose. I shift my eyes from the blood to meet his blazing eyes, radiating with fury, malice, and every negative emotion against me. 
I'm not intimidated in the least by his looks. I've never been intimidated by Lachlan's authority.
He must have had the misconception that he overwhelms me just because I've allowed him to in the past. I want to snort under my breath. I was watching out for the repercussions I would have to face from an altercation with him.
 Back then, I was careful not to lose the privilege I enjoyed from joining the Mendes, despite the odds against me. Right now, I couldn't care less about any consequences.
Lachlan angrily swipes the blood running down his nose off, not wanting to hold his nose or his head back to stop it from running. His handkerchief is stained with blood and mucus when he pulls it away from his fairly cleaned nose, not breaking contact or the scowl he directs at me.
"You'd better watch out for yourself, Lachlan. If you have anything to do with this, I will come after you too. Beatrice's punishment is mild. Yours will be more severe," I promise, turning to leave.
 I catch the flash in his eyes and wonder if it's a reaction to my threat or something more. I narrow my eyes as I walk the last steps to my car, contemplating that Lachlan might be involved in this incident too. As there's no evidence to prove his involvement yet, I'm quite content to make Beatrice the scapegoat.
My car unlocks with a beep, the headlights flashing twice. The door releases a subtle clicking sound as I open it and sink into the plush leather, inhaling the familiar aroma of my cologne and the exoticness of the car's interior. 
I ignore the onlookers and Lachlan, who still stands rooted to the spot I've left him. I close the door behind me, turn on the ignition, and the engine purrs to life. 
I peel out of the driving space, the screech of my tires conveying my mood as I zoom off into the night. The speedometer climbs higher as I accelerate, the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I feel a sense of liberation, finally taking action against those who have wronged me and my family. 
The city lights blur together as I speed through the streets, my mind focused on the road ahead. The darkness of the night seems to fuel my determination, and I press on, driven by my desire for justice and revenge.