Yardley had a cigar casually pinched between his fingers.
Even in the relaxed atmosphere of the car, the sharp cut of his suit and his imposing posture radiated an undeniable dominance. He was the epitome of refined danger.
*Buzz.*
Starla's phone vibrated in her hand. She flipped the screen over to check it.
It was that unknown number again. The message was exactly the same as before: *Herbert is not a good person. Stay away from him.*
How many times was this now? Three?
The phrasing barely changed. It felt like a deliberate, obsessive warning. A constant alarm bell ringing in her ear.
She frowned.
What kind of game was Fairfax playing? He leaves a massive catastrophe behind, vanishes into thin air, blocks her calls, and yet continues to harass her with these vague texts.
Her mind flashed back to the cryptic phone call Herbert had taken outside the restroom before they boarded the plane, and her expression grew heavier.
"A text from Herbert?" Yardley asked casually.
"Huh?"
"You two just separated," he noted, his tone smooth and unreadable.
Starla felt a sudden flush of heat hit her cheeks.
"He certainly seems invested in you, picking up and moving to Yoran Country just like that," Yardley remarked.
*Invested?*
Before today, she would have wholeheartedly agreed. Especially after he revealed his true background to her, she hadn't doubted his intentions for a second.

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