That same year, Evelyn was pregnant and went into premature labor after learning about Robert’s betrayal. To prevent her from getting her company back or fighting him, Robert took extreme measures. He started poisoning her slowly, pretending the toxins were health supplements and medicine. Evelyn, stressed by his betrayal, trusted him and never thought he would poison her.
Her health worsened quickly. The doctors, bribed by Robert, claimed she had cancer. By the time Evelyn figured out the truth, it was too late. Weak and stuck in bed, she could not challenge Robert’s control over XY Corps.
When Evelyn found out that James was due and had been removed from the incubator, she focused completely on protecting her child. She wanted to keep her child safe more than anything else. She tried to leave, but her failing body stopped her. Deep down, she knew she wouldn’t live long enough to keep her promise to protect James from Robert’s cruelty.
Everything she had worked for was gone, and soon, she would be too.
In his last act of cruelty, Robert spared their son—not out of kindness, but spite. Instead of killing James, he sent him to an orphanage, condemning him to a hard life. Robert wanted James to know what it felt like to be poor and looked down upon by the wealthy. He wanted James to toughen up and break. Robert believed that James would become the ruthless heir fit for his empire.
Even at 78, Robert still clung to the belief that his ruthless leadership had made XY Corps the giant it is today. And in a way, he was right. His heartlessness had built an empire—but it had also destroyed everything good in his life.
His lips curled into a smirk as he stared at Evelyn’s photo on the wall. He could still hear her voice, raw with betrayal, her tear-streaked face etched into his mind.
"Did you ever love me?" she had sobbed.
Back then, he had said nothing, only watching as she crumbled before him. Now, he chuckled darkly. "I did love you, Evelyn," he murmured, his voice dripping with something unfathomable.
He pressed a kiss to the cold glass, letting his lips linger—a hollow, empty gesture. A final, cruel mockery of the love she had once believed in. 
Robert turned, and for a split second, his body tensed as his gaze landed on the refined figure leaning against the doorframe. James.
In an instant, Robert masked his panic, slipping into the role of the warm, kind-hearted man everyone believed him to be. Plastering on a smile, he took a step forward.
“Oh, son, how long have you been standing there?”
James held his gaze for a brief moment before shifting his attention to the large portrait of his mother.
Silence settled over the room, thick and suffocating. It felt as if hell itself had frozen over. A cold sweat crept down Robert’s back, yet his smile remained bright, unwavering.
Behind him, his fingers curled into a fist. His jaw tightened, though he resisted the urge to grit his teeth. James must have seen everything. Which meant… he would have to be dealt with.
Slowly, Robert moved his hand, fingers sliding toward the gun tucked inside his left pocket. His grip tightened around the handle, his mind already calculating the next step. Just as he prepared to draw it—
James shrugged. His voice was soft, almost indifferent. “Not too long ago. I arrived when you said you loved Mom.”
Robert’s hand stilled.
James stepped past him, coming to stand in front of the portrait. The woman in the frame was breathtaking—her wedding dress pristine, her smile radiant, full of life. His gaze drifted downward, settling on the inscription at the bottom of the frame:
March 22nd, 19.**
Their wedding date. A photo taken a long time ago, yet the portrait remains fresh and without a speck of dust as if it had only just been taken.
Robert studied James intently, his gaze sharp, searching for any sign that he knew the truth. Every movement, every breath, every flicker of emotion—he analyzed them all.
James’s fingers traced the edge of the frame before gliding over his mother’s face. His voice was soft, almost reverent. “You took care of Mom’s wedding photo all these years.”
Robert watched him closely, his tension lingering—until he noticed the small smile on James’s lips. A sign of appreciation. A moment of sincerity.
Letting out a slow breath, Robert allowed himself to relax. His smile was faint, touched with sadness. “I loved your mother deeply. If I had known… I would’ve tried harder to keep her in this world.”
James remained silent for a moment, his fingertips resting against the glass. Then, in a quiet, almost unreadable tone, he simply said, “I know.”
“Anyways, I have somewhere to be at the moment. I just wanted to talk to you about something, but it could wait for another day,” James said again and slipped his right arm into his pocket before walking out of the room. 
Robert stared at James' back until the door closed automatically, hiding James' from his sight. 
****
It didn't take long for Marcus to call James through the phone and James contemplated not answering the phone but on a second thought. 
He couldn't keep on ignoring his uncle. After all, this was his mother's beloved brother and the only family from his mother's side that he was in contact with. 
He answered the call and Marcus's voice came blaring through the phone speaker, “James, we need to meet up and talk. I've not yet found evidence, but I've got a clue, and I'm close enough to finding one. If you will help me then—” 
“Marcus”, James called his name while taking a deep breath, “I think you should stop this personal investigation of yours.”
“James, please, let’s just meet up,” Marcus's voice was pleading.
“The reason you've not yet gotten any evidence is that simple. The evidence in question does not exist cause Robert didn't do the things you thought he did” James replied, his voice hard and cold, “I am hanging up” 
James ended the call and walked to his car, getting into the driver's seat. 
James gripped the steering wheel, his head pounding with a dull ache. The conversation with Marcus echoed in his mind, over and over, like a song stuck on repeat.
I think you should stop this personal investigation of yours.
But even as he said it, he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.
Robert had given him an explanation, and James had accepted it. He had wanted to accept it. It was easier that way.
Yet, Marcus’s persistence… the conviction in his voice… it made James uneasy.
With a sharp exhale, he rubbed his temple, willing the thoughts away. He didn’t want to think anymore. Not about Marcus, not about Robert, not about the past.
He needed an escape. A distraction. Something—someone—to pull him out of his own mind.
Before he knew it, he was driving.
The roads blurred past him, the city lights blending together in a soft haze. His grip on the wheel loosened slightly as the steady hum of the car’s engine drowned out the noise in his head.
When he finally stopped, he found himself outside Bella’s mansion.
James stared at the tall gates, then at the exquisite structure beyond them.
He had never been here before. Bella had given him her address once, but he had never visited. And yet, his subconscious had led him here.
He hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the car.
The house was quiet, the air still. Then, as if she had sensed his presence, the front door opened.
Bella stood in the doorway, dressed casually in lounge pants and a fitted sweater, her hair loosely tied back. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"James?" She took a step forward, confusion flickering across her face. "I wasn’t expecting you."
James rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how uncharacteristic this was. "I know. I just..." He let out a breath, his voice quieter than usual. "I was driving and ended up here."
Bella’s frown deepened, her gaze scanning his face as if searching for an answer he wasn’t giving.
She stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Come in."
James didn’t hesitate this time.
The house smelled faintly of vanilla and something floral—something distinctly her. He followed her down the hallway into what looked like a personal study, where she gestured for him to sit on the leather couch while she took a seat across from him.
Silence settled between them. Not awkward, but heavy.
Bella studied him, arms resting on her knees. "You look…" She hesitated, her head tilting slightly. "Different."
James let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Different how?"
"I don’t know." She sighed. "Uncertain. Restless. Maybe even sad."
James scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "That obvious, huh?"
Bella didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she stood and walked over to a nearby cabinet, pulling out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. She poured him a drink and handed it over.
"Here," she said. "You look like you need it."
James accepted the glass, rolling the amber liquid around before taking a slow sip. The burn was familiar, grounding.
"I don’t know what I’m doing, Bella," he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now, less guarded. "I feel like… everything I thought I knew is falling apart."
Bella didn’t push him to explain. She just waited.
James sighed, running a hand down his face. "Ever since my mom died, nothing has felt the same. Then Marcus came into the picture, saying my dad killed her." He scoffed, shaking his head. "But my dad told me his side of the story, and I believed him. I wanted to believe him. Every day, I see him lost in her memory, and I tell myself—he loved her. He’s grieving her."
He took another sip, letting the silence stretch before continuing. "But Marcus… he keeps insisting. And now, I can’t stop thinking about it."
His voice dropped lower. "What if he’s right? What if everything I’ve believed until now was a lie?"
Then he shook his head as if what he just said was impossible and couldn't be true. 
Bella leaned back, crossing her arms. "Then you need to find out for yourself."
James looked at her.
"Meet with Marcus and if you've done that, meet with him again," she said simply. "Hear him out—really hear him out. If you do, maybe you’ll finally know what to do next."
James didn’t respond immediately. He just stared at the glass in his hand, watching the liquid swirl inside.