Despite the allure of Henley's proposition, Raegan remained steadfast in her refusal.

"I'm not ready to consider it," she asserted.

She harbored ambitions to venture abroad, yet was determined to rely on no one but herself.

With a serene smile, Henley reassured, "There's still half a year left. Should you wish to depart, you'll have me join you on the journey abroad."

Raegan, unconvinced of the feasibility of accompanying Henley abroad, rose to her feet.

“Henley, one moment," she said before retrieving the gifts Gerda had given her and presenting them to him.

Henley declined, "No, Raegan. Take them. My mother gave them to you.

They're yours."

Raegan, insistent, refused to accept what she felt was not hers.

Once outside Raegan's place, the warmth drained from Henley's expression, replaced by an icy veneer.

The memory of Raegan's unhesitating rejection inflicted an unfamiliar ache within him.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Could it be a genuine interest in her?

Interrupted by a call, Henley responded indifferently, his attention shifting back to Raegan's window, “Let her know something and bite the bait," he commanded coldly.

At Triclinium Hospital of Ardlens.

Lauren found herself confined in a pitch-black room. Its airtight seal contained a stench reminiscent of decay, a grim reminder of death's presence.

Mice skittered beneath her, occasionally venturing onto her feet, prompting her to suppress her disgust for fear of crushing their carcasses in a frantic effort to evade them.

This grim reality was her penance for yet another thwarted attempt to flee.

Upon her arrival at Triclinium, she protested her sanity vehemently, claiming she'd been committed against her will.

Initially, the staff inquired about her admittance, to which she exclaimed, "Mitchel, the CEO of the Dixon Group, is to blame!"