Vio had just finished calling the equestrian club.

He put the phone down and was about to lock the screen when another call came in.

The screen displayed a number with no name saved.

This was the third number he’d blocked. The caller seemed like a whack-a-mole—block one, then another pops up, always a new number.

He picked up the phone, hung up without hesitation, and immediately blocked the number.

Vio tossed the phone onto the table, tilted his head back and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples with both hands.

His temples were throbbing, and the back of his head was starting to feel tight.

That familiar dull ache was creeping up from his cervical spine all the way to the top of his head.

It had been a long time since it last struck.

The man let out a bitter laugh.

He opened a drawer, pulled out a blister pack of pills, aluminum foil wrapped, pressed down to pop out a small white tablet.

No water—swallowed dry.

As he reached the final five steps of the staircase, Vio spotted Qin Qinxi.

She was standing at the kitchen doorway, busy with the housekeeper.

The housekeeper was carrying bowls and plates, while she helped arrange them on the table.

Maria turned her head and saw the master right away, instantly looking flustered.

She set the dishes on the dining table, took a step back, and bowed slightly.

“Sir,” she said, keeping her head lowered, not daring to look at him.

Would the boss think she’d overstepped?

Would he think she was making him do work while she just stood by?

Her heart tightened, and her palms began to sweat.

Qin Qinxi also saw Vio.

She glanced at the aunt’s nervous expression and felt a bit confused, unsure what was going on.

She wiped her hands and gave Vio a smile.

Vio ignored her and walked toward the dining room. Qin Qinxi followed.

There were only the two of them in the dining room.

Maria entered with her head lowered, arranged the bowls and chopsticks, stepped back, and stood with her hands hanging limply.

Qin Qinxi sat across from Vio, picked up her chopsticks, put them down, then picked them up again.

“I’ve already bought everything,” she said obediently, “and it’s upstairs.”

Vio’s head still throbbed faintly.

He grunted in response but said nothing else, picked up his glass, and took a sip of water.

Bali was already waiting at the door.

When he saw the boss come out, he opened the rear passenger door, placed his hand on the roof, and bowed slightly.

Qin Qinxi bent over and slid into the car, moving closer to the other side of the door.

Vio also bent over and sat down, the door closed, and the cool air from the air conditioner immediately enveloped them.

He leaned back in his seat, constantly turning his face to look at her.

The little mouse just stared out the window; the glass reflected her profile—her eyelashes drooping, her lips pressed together, expressionless—

but the corners of her mouth were slightly downturned, as if she were holding something back.

Vio naturally noticed that she was troubled and forced a fake smile.

Seems she really isn’t an agent—the acting is terrible.

The car drove out of the villa and turned onto Palm Island’s main thoroughfare.

On both sides of the road was the sea, a deep blue that shimmered with tiny golden flecks in the sunlight.

Qin Qinxi looked out the window; the sea was calm, with a few yachts moored in the distance, their white hulls swaying gently in the ripples.

“Boss… we’ve run into an old acquaintance,” Bali in the front seat suddenly said, his voice a bit tense.

Vio frowned, shifting his gaze from the woman’s face to the road ahead.

Qin Qinxi heard it too and, out of curiosity, looked forward as well.

Ahead, a Rolls-Royce was parked squarely in the middle of the road, its body a dark shade, the Spirit of Ecstasy on the hood gleaming silver in the sun.

A man stood beside the car, perfectly straight, wearing a sharply tailored dark gray suit with a meticulously knotted tie.

His hands hung loosely at his sides, not in his pockets—he just stood there.

Qin Qinxi’s eyes widened slightly.

She had never seen such an elegant man before; even Hollywood movies portraying nobility couldn’t capture this kind of aura.

It wasn’t just about looks—it was an inherent sense of refinement that radiated from his very bones, making him clearly no ordinary person.

He had a strong European face, with deep, defined features: high cheekbones, a straight nose, and deep gray eyes.

End of Chapter 58: Chapter 58