Before Daisy could even answer, Frederick snatched his coat off the sofa. His usually composed stride was now frantic; he didn't even stop to change his shoes. He pulled on his coat as he rushed to the cabin across the way where Arabella Sinclair lived.

"Aerona, Aerona!" He pounded on the door. Seconds passed with no movement.

Even if the girl were deep in sleep, Black and Peach were there—the most alert animals who would surely bark if they heard his voice. But there was no sound even from them. The cabin was empty.

Standing outside in the cold forest night with mist swirling around him, Frederick felt chilled to the bone. All the physical reactions from the drug were instantly swept away by this bone-deep cold. 

Daisy was about to flee, her steps panicked, but just as she reached the door, she saw Frederick storming back in, his face almost demonic with fury. 

Without a word, Frederick seized her throat again, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. His grip was fierce enough to snap her neck. Looking at the suffocating Daisy, he said word by word, "Where is she?"

Daisy was like a fish out of water, desperately thrashing. Her eyes bulged from extreme oxygen deprivation.

He tightened his fingers further, his tone and expression eerily calm, making the act of violence seem almost elegant. "You think I don't know what you and your mother are up to? Your brother made a three-hundred-million-euro mess. You thought if you slept with me, I would marry you out of religious obligation and help your family out of its crisis? Don't be naive, Daisy Beaumont. If anything happens to Aerona, I will cut off your mother's and your brother's filthy heads and put them in your family's mailbox. You should be familiar with Sicilian traditions".

Daisy's expression was distorted, as if she were looking at Satan himself.

Frederick's mother's family originated in Sicily, Italy, a place famous for two things: lemons and the Mafia.

After a century of laundering their image, the Cornelius family had long since gone legitimate, becoming a famous billionaire family in Rome, Italy, dealing in legitimate businesses like high-end hotels, wine, and perfume, investing in art and culture, and even buying an F1 team. But once upon a time, this family had indeed made their fortune through blood and violence.

Frederick let go, and the woman slumped to the floor. He looked down at her coldly. "I'll give you three seconds. Three, two—"

"Cough—cough—she's—" Daisy coughed violently, choking as she struggled to breathe. Tears streamed down her face. She raised a hand to point toward the forest, her voice trembling. "The north entrance... go inside... I don't know the exact spot... Please, don't, Frederick..."

She truly didn't know where her mother's men had left Minnie. Her mother had only told her to be obedient and do her part; she wasn't supposed to ask about anything else.

Frederick's fingers trembled slightly as he dialed Harold Whitmore.

"You'd better pray she's safe."

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What Daisy did not know was that her mother, Lady Patricia, had planned from the very beginning to take this opportunity to kill Arabella Sinclair—eliminating the greatest threat to her daughter's future once and for all.

A tragic accident. A death resulting from a wild bear or wolf attack in the forest was hardly unusual, was it? People would merely pity the unfortunate girl, and no one would be to blame.

The moment Arabella spotted the wolves, goosebumps erupted across her skin, and her mind went numb.

There were four of them, their front limbs crouched low and hind legs tensed, ready to spring. Food was scarce in winter, and they had been tracking Minnie's scent for a long time. 

Neither side made a move initially, as the four wolves remained wary of the powerful guard dogs.

During the tense standoff, Minnie suddenly grew restless and began barking frantically. Her animal instincts were screaming with terror, and her weak frame trembled with the instinct to survive.

In the next second, the largest wolf pounced. Black met it without a hint of cowardice, and the two became a blur of snarling and biting. Wolves are pack animals—intelligent and cooperative in combat. Soon, another wolf lunged in, intending to help tear Black apart.

"Black!!" Arabella felt a sharp pain in her chest. She knew the most logical thing to do was to run—if she took Minnie and fled now, they might have a chance at life.

The Doberman was a fierce fighter, but under the siege of two larger wild wolves, he was clearly at a disadvantage, being bitten from both the front and back.

Peach stayed by Arabella's side, not daring to leave her for a moment, but as she watched her companion being mauled, she pawed at the dirt and let out a heavy, thunderous roar.

Finally, she gave Arabella two short barks—a signal to run—before charging forward herself to intercept the wolf waiting on the sidelines.

One smaller wolf remained, lurking in the bushes and observing. It appeared to be a cub, not participating in the initial charge but acting as a reserve force. With the three large wolves occupied, this was the best chance to escape.

Black and Peach were literally putting their lives on the line to protect her.

Arabella's breathing was shallow and rapid, tears streaming down her face. If she ran now, would Black and Peach die? Yes, they would. These were three organized, disciplined, and ferocious adult wolves.

Arabella's feet felt rooted to the spot. She was paralyzed, her entire body shaking, as the immense stress caused a sharp ringing in her ears. Suddenly, fragments of her past began to surface—blurred faces and echoing voices.

—"Bella, when Mommy and Daddy aren't by your side, remember to protect yourself."

—"Three bullseyes! Our little girl is so talented."

—"Grip your gun, Bella. See that clay pigeon moving in the sky? Shoot it down."