Arriving at the imposing gates of Flynn Mansion, she pressed the doorbell, the chime echoing beyond the barrier.

The massive door swung open, but instead of the warm welcome she expected, she was met by the familiar face of one of the household staff. The servant stood at the entrance, deliberately blocking her path, discomfort radiating from her rigid posture.

Unaware of the unpleasantness to come, Elissa smiled warmly. “Has Locke been looking forward to my visit? Is he getting restless?”

She gestured toward the interior, preparing to step inside what she assumed was a welcoming home. This update is available on f?ndnovel.net

“Miss Holland…” The servant finally broke the uncomfortable silence, standing firm in her position. “I’m afraid entry is not permitted for you.”

Elissa’s entire body stiffened, her smile evaporating like morning dew under the harsh sunlight. “Why not?”

Before the servant could respond, Ernest appeared behind her, his presence rendering any further explanation unnecessary.

Elissa’s gaze fixed on his approaching figure, a sense of dread mounting within her. He was home already?

The realization hit her with sickening clarity—he had orchestrated this obstruction.

“You are dismissed,” Ernest instructed the servant, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

“Yes, sir.” The servant retreated into the depths of the mansion, leaving Elissa to face Ernest’s imposing presence alone.

“Mr. Flynn.” Elissa’s brow furrowed in mounting apprehension. “Your staff informed me that I am prohibited from entering…”

“Yes,” Ernest confirmed with a deliberate nod, his voice carrying the chill of winter frost. “That is correct. The directive originated from me.”

His calculating gaze moved over her form with clinical detachment. “Effective immediately, your visits to Locke are terminated.”

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The blood drained from Elissa’s face, her complexion turning ashen, her features locked in a mask of utter devastation.

“Why?” The single word slipped from her lips, a wounded whisper.

As the question lingered between them, the realization hit her—what other reason could there be?

“You…” Elissa faltered, her voice trembling with apprehension. “Is this retribution because of Robin?”

“Very perceptive.” The compliment was laced with venom.

Ernest confirmed her suspicion without pretense, his voice devoid of emotion, yet each word cut through her defenses with surgical precision.

He enunciated every syllable with deliberate clarity. “Since you harbor intentions of reconciliation with Robin, I regret to inform you—access to Locke is henceforth revoked.”

Elissa’s mouth fell open in stunned disbelief. Her eyes widened with horror as the full weight of the situation sank in.

The man before her was a stranger. The considerate, cultured gentleman she had once known had vanished, replaced by someone unrecognizable.

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