The moment the call ended, Victor Sullivan's face darkened like storm clouds.

He strode to the gated community entrance and barked at the security guard, "My daughter is inside. Let me in now!"

His bodyguards closed ranks behind him.

The head guard stood firm. "The homeowner specifically instructed to deny you entry. We'll call the police if you cause trouble."

The word "police" made Victor's temple throb.

As chairman of Sullivan Group, he couldn't afford any negative publicity.

"Uncle Victor?"

A delicate female voice called from behind.

Victor turned to see Isabella Valentine standing a few paces away, her eyes shifty.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

She bit her lip. "Looking for my brother. His phone's off."

Victor narrowed his eyes. "Perfect. Go get Natalie for me."

As Isabella moved to enter, the guard blocked her. "Residents of Building 12 have ordered no visitors tonight."

She turned back, suddenly clutching Victor's sleeve. "Uncle Victor, my mother's been arrested! Please help me!"

Victor shook her off. "Why was she arrested?"

"It must be a setup!" Isabella's eyes reddened with panic. "You're our only hope now!"

With a cold laugh, Victor dialed Ethan Sullivan.

The truth emerged in three sentences.

Hanging up, Victor's gaze turned razor-sharp.

"Uncle Victor..." Isabella shrank under his stare and tried to flee.

"Grab her!" Victor commanded.

Bodyguards tackled her within steps, pinning her to the pavement.

"I'm innocent!" she wailed, struggling.

Victor looked down at her like a judge pronouncing sentence. "That car accident two years ago—your mother killed my grandson. Neither of you will escape justice."

He personally called the police commissioner. "Michael, Victoria Windsor's case must be prosecuted to the fullest extent."

After hanging up, Victor staggered.

His assistant steadied him. "Mr. Chairman..."

"I was wrong." Victor's voice cracked. "If only I hadn't..."

He couldn't finish, suddenly aged a decade.

Back at Sullivan Manor, a light shone upstairs.

Heart leaping, Victor rushed up and pushed open the door.

Audrey Sullivan sat by their daughter's bed, holding a photo frame.

"Natalie didn't come home?" Victor's voice was rough.

Audrey didn't look up. "Thanks to you."

Victor suddenly slapped himself hard across the face.

"What are you doing?" Audrey frowned.

"I deserve it." His voice trembled. "Sophia's baby... I killed that child."

Audrey stood abruptly, hand raised to strike, but paused at the sight of his swollen cheek.

"Now you regret it?" she sneered.

Victor hung his head like a chastened child, silent.

In the dead of night, he lay awake in the guest room until dawn.

Thoughts of the grandchild he'd never met cut through him like knives.