The black sedan slowly pulled up in front of Central Hospital.

Adrian Sullivan took out his sunglasses and put them on, then pulled his cap low, completely concealing his face.

He motioned for the driver to queue at the registration window.

"Use your ID," Adrian said in a hushed voice.

The driver hesitated but didn’t dare refuse.

In the psychiatric clinic, an elderly doctor adjusted his glasses, studying the heavily disguised man before him.

"Lately, I keep hearing people insulting me," Adrian rasped. "Someone’s following me too. They planted listening devices in my office."

The doctor scribbled notes on the medical chart.

"Even worse," Adrian whispered, glancing around nervously, "I feel like someone’s trying to kill me."

The test results came back quickly.

"Early-stage schizophrenia," the doctor said calmly. "I recommend hospitalization."

Adrian clenched his fists.

"No. Just prescribe medication," he said, his voice trembling. "I can’t be hospitalized."

As he left the examination room, Adrian suddenly turned back. "Do you recognize me?"

The doctor shook his head.

Adrian exhaled in relief.

At the Laurent family villa.

"Grandfather, I’m sick," Adrian said lifelessly, slumping onto the sofa.

Leonard Laurent’s teacup shattered on the floor.

"Nonsense!" the old man snapped. "You’re just stressed!"

Adrian handed him the diagnosis with a bitter smile.

Leonard’s face turned ashen as he read it.

"Your father must never know," he said under his breath. "Sullivan Group is counting on you."

Adrian nodded mechanically.

"By the way," Leonard narrowed his eyes, "that child of Isabella’s—"

"Don’t touch her!" Adrian shot to his feet. "That’s my flesh and blood!"

The next morning.

Sullivan Group headquarters.

Adrian kept sensing whispers behind his back.

He whirled around—the hallway was empty.

"Director Sullivan?" Ethan appeared before him. "How were your test results?"

Adrian forced composure. "I’m perfectly fine."

"Let me know if you need help," Ethan said meaningfully. "After all, I have more experience than you."

In the conference room.

Adrian mechanically read his speech, finger tracing each word.

Victor Sullivan frowned. "Rest if you’re unwell."

"I’m fine!" Adrian’s voice rose sharply before he caught himself. "Just... didn’t sleep well."

Two weeks later.

At the Laurent residence.

Sophia Laurent carefully cradled the swaddled infant.

"Grace, say 'sister,'" she cooed.

Evelyn Grandelle chuckled. "She’s only three months old."

Ethan stood nearby, watching his wife with soft eyes.

"Want to hold her?" Sophia offered the baby.

Ethan took a step back. "That wouldn’t be proper."

The room erupted in laughter.

Sophia shot him a playful glare before turning back to the baby in her arms.

Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow around her.