Chapter 5 First Meeting with Sophia

The servant's room assigned to Cole wasn't very big.

A single bed sat against the wall, its frame painted white with some spots already peeling off, revealing the rusted iron underneath.

The mattress was thin, covered with a set of white sheets that had been washed so many times they felt stiff.

Next to the bed was just a wardrobe and a desk placed under the window, with a thin layer of dust on its surface.

The room's window was also small, with iron bars installed outside the glass. Vines had grown all over the bars, cutting the light into scattered fragments.

Cole put his canvas bag on the bed, then pushed open the window, breathing in the air from outside that carried the scent of soil and grass.

He stood by the window, thinking through everything he'd seen along the way.

He realized the manor's security level far exceeded what a normal wealthy person would need.

The guard booth at the entrance, the security in the main building, the cameras under the eaves, the sensors on the lawn.

This wasn't a setup to prevent thieves—it was guarding against something specific, or someone specific.

Victor knew Sophia didn't have much time left.

And when he said it, his tone wasn't regretful—it was certain!

Like he was waiting for Sophia's death to arrive!

And in the photos of Sophia he'd just seen in the living room, she was smiling in every single one.

Smiling while horseback riding, smiling at parties, smiling while reading—as if death's shadow had never hung over her.

But Cole noticed one detail—all the photos were solo shots of Sophia. No family photos, no photos with Victor, not a single photo with another person in it.

Also, Cole felt something was off about the way Victor looked at him.

It wasn't simple contempt—instead, it was full of wariness.

The guy was the actual person in power of a top financial group, while his surface identity was just a poor kid fresh out of prison.

By normal logic, Victor shouldn't be wary of him.

This was very unusual.

Unless Victor knew who he really was!

Cole pulled out the silver dagger from his canvas bag and drew it partway out.

The dark red patterns on the blade glowed faintly in the dim light.

The Browns were The Volchatnik's informants.

They had sent him into the Rockefeller family.

Victor was wary of him. Sophia didn't have much time left.

These threads pieced together pointed to only one possibility.

Sophia was the Phoenix bloodline heir.

Victor knew about this.

The Volchatnik knew too.

They had partnered up.

Cole closed the window, turned around, and walked out of the servant's room.

The hallway was empty.

He went up the stairs. When he passed the first floor, he heard Victor's voice coming from the living room direction.

"...Find out everything about him. Imprisoned three years ago, took the fall for Tyler, Navy SEAL reserve. I want to know who he contacted inside, what he did. And that thing the Browns mentioned—about the bloodline, verify it as soon as possible."

Cole paused for a step, then continued upward.

The second floor was Sophia's room.

A security guard stood at the door. Seeing Cole, he held out his hand to stop him. "Mr. Victor Rockefeller gave orders—you can only go in at nine tomorrow morning."

Cole glanced at the guard, nodded, and turned to go back downstairs.

He returned to the servant's room, closed the door, and sat on the bed.

Tomorrow at nine.

He would walk through that door, get close to the woman who'd been lying there for a year, and confirm one thing—whether or not she was the Phoenix bloodline heir.

If she was, he'd have a way to survive.

If she wasn't, he'd still need to find the next clue before Victor and The Volchatnik made their move.

Cole pulled out the silver dagger from his waist, gripped it in his hand, stared at the runes on the handle, and fell into deep thought.

The next morning.

Cole came out of the servant's room and went up the stairs.

Servants were already working in the hallway—one mopping the floor with a mop, another pushing a cart to change sheets.

The two servants saw Cole, paused in their movements, their eyes sweeping over him once, then lowered their heads and continued working without saying anything.

Cole didn't say anything either.

He went up to the second floor. At the end of the hallway, yesterday's guard was still at the door.

The guard saw him, raised his hand to check his watch, "You still have twenty minutes before you can see Ms. Rockefeller."

Cole leaned against the wall across the hallway, waiting.

The hallway was very quiet, with several landscape paintings hanging on the walls, all depicting the same place—

A lake, with a mountain by the lakeside, snow covering the mountain.

Each painting showed a different angle, but they all depicted the same scenery.

At the end of the hallway was a window, with light from outside streaming in and falling on the dark wooden floor.

Twenty minutes passed.

The guard stepped aside, took out a key to unlock the door, "You can go in now! Remember not to touch anything. After you leave, I'll come lock the door."

Cole ignored the guard and walked straight into Sophia's room.

The room was bigger than he'd imagined—at least four times larger than his servant's room.

The room had a large window directly facing the garden behind the manor.

The curtains were light beige, half-drawn, with light streaming in and falling on the white blanket on the bed.

Lying on the bed was Sophia Rockefeller, Cole's fiancée in name.

Sophia's golden hair was spread across the pillow, laid out as if carefully arranged.

Her face was very thin, with prominent cheekbones and slightly sunken eye sockets—clearly suffering from long-term malnutrition.

Her skin was so pale it was almost bloodless, her lips dry and cracked with a faint dark rim around the edges.

The blanket covered up to her chest, her hands placed outside the blanket, fingers slightly curled.

Not moving at all.

Cole closed the door, stood at the entrance, looking at Sophia's withered and haggard figure.

Then he approached her step by step.

But when he was about 6 feet from the bedside, Cole's chest suddenly felt a burning sensation.

Not a fire-like burn, but a warm feeling.

Like something had awakened in his chest cavity, rolled over, then quieted down again.

Cole abruptly stopped in his tracks.

The silver dagger at his waist also vibrated slightly at that moment.

The blade inside the sheath was humming and trembling, as if responding to some signal.

Cole realized something. He took another step forward.

The warmth in his chest intensified again.

That heat spread from his chest to his limbs, flowing along his blood vessel pathways to his fingertips, to the soles of his feet.

Cole's heartbeat suddenly quickened, but his consciousness remained clear—he hadn't lost control.

The Fenrir wolf bloodline in his body made Cole quickly realize—

The withered woman before him could resonate with his bloodline!

She was the Phoenix bloodline!!!

Cole's breathing became more and more rapid. After forcing himself to calm down, he walked to the bedside and looked down at Sophia on the bed.

Sophia's face looked even paler in the light, the blood vessels under her eyelids faintly visible.

Her breathing was very shallow, her chest barely rising and falling. If not for the extremely faint movement at the edge of the blanket, you couldn't tell she was still breathing at all.

Cole reached out his hand, his fingers hovering above her forehead without touching.

His fingertips were about 1 inch from her skin.

The temperature in his chest suddenly jumped. The silver dagger at his waist vibrated again, more noticeably than before.

Cole withdrew his hand. He stared at Sophia's face for a few seconds, then pulled over the chair by the bed and sat down.

The chair's position allowed him to see Sophia's entire face and her hands resting outside the blanket.

Cole keenly observed—

Sophia's fingernails had very fine black lines on them.

But not every finger had them.

The thumb and middle finger of her left hand, the index finger and ring finger of her right hand.

Four fingers had black lines at the nail roots, extending from the edge of the nail bed toward the nail tips, about two or three millimeters long, as thin as a hair.

Cole frowned slightly. He realized this was a sign of poisoning.

At the same time, Cole remembered something written in Old Eric's notebook—

The Fenrir wolf bloodline could make him immune to all poisons and could also suppress various toxins.