Hearing the light and elegant footsteps heading to the door of the surveillance room, Jeremy turned around and went out. He blocked the way of a well-preserved middle-aged noble woman.

He looked at his mother, Ysabelle Chilton, who had never smiled at him, and he beamed at her, a grin that was laced with frost. He kept a distance from her and asked, "What do you want?"

Ysabelle looked delicate and seemed to be mixed-race. Her eyes were blacker than ink, her nose tall, and her skin fairer than snow. However, none of that could cover the trace of anger in her eyes.

She was a woman who was close...