3
My outstretched hand paused.
Landon’s smile remained gentle.
But there was a hint of impatience in his eyes from holding the coffee too long.
Seeing my troubled expression, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
I pulled my hand back.
“I have something to do. I can’t chat,” I said flatly.
Without waiting for his reply, I stepped directly into the elevator.
I’d thought maybe someone would treat me with genuine kindness.
But it seemed everyone had their own hidden agenda.
Still, my words weren’t entirely an excuse.
The institute had recently taken in a batch of mutated creatures.
I was busy with their assessment and integration.
My life during this period became a routine, a straight line between home and the institute.
The house felt a little empty without a werewolf.
It was a bit strange at first.
But gradually, I felt nothing about it.
After all, Silas’s life and mine were just two intersecting lines.
After a brief convergence, we would forever diverge.
That day, when my work at the institute was done,
I walked out of the lab.
Peeling off my sterile gloves, I asked my assistant:
3:42 PM
<
“Have the last batch of test subjects been sent out?”
C
For evaluated test subjects, aggressive creatures were to be sent to The Federal Institute of Biological Sciences for unified
handling.
Non–dangerous creatures were to be returned to their owners.
My assistant flipped through some files.
“All non–aggressive creatures have been returned,” she replied diligently.
“However, there’s still one mutated Ragdoll cat left. The researchers here are busy, so it might take a few days to send it off.”
I asked for the cat owner’s address.
My assistant gave me a location.
It wasn’t too far, so I decided to return it myself.
I secured the pet carrier in the back seat and drove to the destination.
When I arrived at the villa gate, I rang the doorbell.
The door opened to a familiar face.
“Blair? It’s actually you.”
Isabelle, dressed in luxurious, exquisite clothes, looked me up and down.
Then she let out a light laugh.
“Do you regret leaving the Sterling family?”
“So you’ve come to beg me to put in a good word for you?”
Isabelle crossed her arms, her tone dismissive and mocking.
Her attitude made me feel a little lost.
I simply handed her the pet carrier and said blandly:
“I’m from the institute, You submitted a mutated Ragdoll cat.”
“After evaluation, this cat is non–aggressive. Please ensure its proper care.”
The woman took the carrier.
Her face showed a hint of surprise when she heard “institute,”
Then her eyes turned green with envy and hatred.
I remembered shortly after I was found by the Sterling family, my birth mother had talked to me.
She’d asked if I could give my research position at the institute to Isabelle.
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0
Just because Isabelle liked it.
I was astonished. The institute was a federal agency, directly managed by the government.
I had gone through layers of selection to get in; it was an extremely competitive process.
Moreover, I had already made significant achievements there.
Why should I give it up just because she liked it?
So I refused.
From then on, Isabelle had targeted me at every turn.
“What’s there to be proud of, working at the institute?!”
The woman scoffed.
Just then, footsteps sounded from the living room.
“Izzy, who is it? What’s taking so long?”
Isabelle’s eyes subtly darkened, and her gaze flickered.
She then forcefully grabbed the cat directly from the pet carrier.
I sharply warned:
“Be careful!”
Even if the cat wasn’t aggressive, it was still a mutated species.
Without proper care, it could still hurt someone.
The next second, I heard the cat’s furious snarls.
The cat, agitated, bit and clawed.
When Ashton Sterling walked out, he saw the woman’s arms covered in bloody scratch marks.
His face immediately hardened.
He promptly threw the cat aside.
His voice filled with worried tension:
“Are you okay, Izzy? I’ll take you to the hospital!”
Isabelle’s face was pale from the pain.
Her eyes welled with tears as she glanced at me, then quickly clutched Ashton.
She feigned innocence and kindness, saying:
“It’s okay, brother. Please don’t blame Blair.”
3:42
4
<
“She said this cat was non–aggressive after testing, so I touched it. I never expected…”
“Maybe she’s upset that I took what should have been her place, that’s why she did this. But I don’t blame her.”
Ashton, hearing this, glared at me, furious.
He looked utterly enraged, his chest heaving:
“Blair! How could you be so cruel?”
“She’s my Sterling family’s precious darling, cherished for over twenty years! How dare an outsider like you bully her?!”
