?Chapter 1067:


    Noah smoothed the hem of his suit jacket, exhaled slowly, and swung open the car door.


    With measured steps and a calm resolve, he crossed the gravel path toward Castro Manor.


    Inside, the living room was cloaked in silence. Ralph sat poised in the center of the sofa, spine straight and hands folded. His expression was carved from stone—stern, still, unreadable.


    Noah halted a respectful distance away and inclined his head. “Mr. Castro.”


    The elder’s gaze rose, deliberate and unhurried.


    His eyes flicked to the silver mask veiling Noah’s face, lingered a beat, then slid toward ine and Alfredo, who hovered like shadows at the room’s edge.


    “ine, Alfredo, leave us.” The words were soft, yet each syblended with immutable finality.


    ine—who had entered shoulder to shoulder with Noah—and Alfredo, stationed like a sentinel nearby, stiffened.


    ine’s jaw twitched. He drew a breath, the beginning of a question rising in his throat.


    Why the need for secrecy? What did his grandfather see in Patrick that warranted such discretion?


    But before the thought could be sound, Ralph’s eyes snapped to him. There was no mistaking the message in that stare.


    ine’s protest crumbled before it could take shape.


    With a respectful bow, he turned on his heel and exited the room, Alfredo trailing silently behind him.


    The living room, vast and steeped in muted grandeur, now held a silence so dense it felt almost deliberate.


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    Noah crossed the room with unhurried steps and settled into the seat across from Ralph.


    Lifting his gaze, he met the elder’s scrutinizing stare with cool precision. “If you have something to say, Mr. Castro, just say it,” Noah said, his voice clipped, deliberate. “Sending away your grandson and your butler—does that mean this is something you can’t afford to say aloud?”


    Ralph adjusted his sses with slow, practiced fingers. His eyes narrowed as he studied the man before him.


    The mask might have hidden half his face, but not the truth. The stature, the voice, and most of all, the eyes—dark, stormy, unmistakable—stirred memories long buried.


    Even through the years and the hardening of time, the boy’s resemnce to histe friend Nigel was undeniable.


    “Noah, it’s been a long time.”


    Noah’s hand, resting lightly on a porcin cup, froze—just for a breath. He had underestimated Ralph. Even though he was wearing a mask, the old man had seen through it with ease.


    With a quiet sigh of resignation, Noah lifted his hand and peeled away the silver mask.


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