Housekeeper Win, her face weary with sleep, was jolted awake by the unexpected sight of Tony in the living-room. Glancing at the clock and noting it was just 5 A.M., her worry creased her forehead and she asked with an anxious tone, "Tony, is everything alright?"
Tony offered a shake of his head in reassurance and replied, "Yeah, Andrea and I are heading out to Cardiff today."
Housekeeper Win's speech faltered as relief washed over her. She had braced herself for a dire emergency, not a mere journey.
Cautiously, she ventured a guess. "Tony, are you off to Cardiff to propose to a special someone?" It was the only rationale she could muster for his pre-dawn readiness.
"No, there's no one like that in Cardiff for me. And please, don't mention to Andrea that I'm here. I'll wait for her to wake up," Tony said, taking Housekeeper Win aback as he settled into a chair with a nonchalant air.
He flicked on the television and began to leisurely flip through the news channels, crossing his legs and sinking into a relaxed pose.
Housekeeper Win watched on, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity at his calm demeanor.
Tony was patient, content with the news as the morning light crept in.
The sound of Lucas and Pete's conversation drifted down from the staircase. Pete's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Tony, but his surprise quickly turned to delight as he bounded down the stairs exclaiming, "Uncle Tony!"
Tony chuckled at the boy's enthusiasm. "Pete, my boy, you're getting chubbier," he teased affectionately.
Housekeeper Win emerged from the dining area, reminding Pete, "Your breakfast is ready, dear. Eat up so you don't run late for school."
Pete, with a hint of reluctance, tore himself away from Tony and walked over to the dinning area.
With Pete gone, Tony turned a cold glare on Lucas. "Your brother will be returning with us. It's time you left; stop skulking around like an unwanted guest," he said with unmistakable hostility.
Lucas merely smiled, a response that only fueled Tony's anger. He rose to his feet, his fists clenched. Every aspect of Lucas seemed to grate on him – his smile, his face, even the shirt he wore.
It was Andrea's voice, ripe with surprise, that broke the tension. "Tony?" She had come down to get a glass of water and was stunned to find him there.
Observing the clock, which now read just after 7 a.m., Andrea asked, "How long have you been here?"
Tony's blunt response caught her off guard. "Since 5 a.m. It was my decision to keep my visit quiet; I told Mrs. Win not to inform you."
Andrea was at a loss for words. Had she not come down for water, Tony's presence might have remained unnoticed.
"Come with me, Tony," she finally said, leading the way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Before trailing after Andrea throughout the house, Tony shot Lucas Anderson a piercing glare that left no doubt about his feelings.
Once they reached her study, Andrea got straight to the point. "Tony, do you have the information on Valentine Anderson?"
Without a moment's delay, Tony produced a large envelope. He opened it to reveal photographs of two individuals, Pascal Willow and Margret Willow. As he laid out the pictures, he began to explain, "This man is Pascal Willow, and the woman beside him is his wife, Margret. A few months back, there was a car explosion that supposedly killed Pascal. There were rumors of his death, but Margret has been insistent that her husband is alive, just undergoing treatment."
Andrea's expression shifted to one of concern as she connected the dots: Valentine Anderson was masquerading as Margret's presumably deceased husband. She concealed her discomfort with a frown, "Is there anything more?"
There was a brief pause as Tony considered his next words, but he pressed on. "Andrea, it seems Valentine Anderson is assuming Pascal's identity. According to the intelligence from my sources, just a few days ago, he positioned himself as the chairman of Willow Group, while maintaining the guise of being Pascal Willow."
Tony braced for Andrea's anger, or perhaps shock. However, her composure took him by surprise. She was unexpectedly serene, her reaction far from what he had anticipated.
After a brief period of reflection, Andrea made up her mind. "I'll prepare so we can leave," she stated, her voice steady and resolved.
Andrea and Tony had no idea that their movements were under close surveillance. Even before they departed from the Singer's mansion, their intention to travel to Cardiff was already known to Margret Willow and Valentine Anderson.
In the dim light of a well-appointed office, Valentine Anderson reclined in his chair, the picture of composed anticipation, while Margret Willow stood behind him, her hands working to ease the tension in his shoulders.
"Pascal," Margret began, the name a deceitful mask that Valentine had worn these past days without protest, "your ex-wife, the one who sought your demise, is en route to Cardiff to confront you. Will you finally unveil your true identity as Valentine Anderson to her?" She asked, her voice laced with a smile.
Valentine, known to many now as Pascal Willow, mulled over the gravity of the situation. His eyes flared with an inner fire as he replied, "The moment isn't ripe just yet. But rest assured, when it is, I'll ensure they're groveling at my feet before I reveal the truth."
Margret's smile widened, a reflection of her growing satisfaction. She continued, "She's probably racing to Cardiff under the delusion that you'll abandon the chairmanship of Willow Group and dutifully follow her home, which would make it all the more convenient for her to execute her murderous plot."
With each word Margret spoke, Valentine's expression grew darker, a storm of anger and hatred swirling within him.
He was about to speak when the ringing of the telephone cut through the tension-charged silence. Margret's lips twisted into a knowing smirk. "They've arrived," she announced with a hint of triumph.
Valentine's hand shot out to grab the receiver, the veins on his forehead standing out as a testament to his boiling fury. The voice on the other end of the line was formal, yet urgent. "Chairman Pascal, the Chairlady of Singer's Group has requested a meeting with you at the Presidential Hotel. Should I decline her invitation, or shall we accept?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Valentine, through gritted teeth and with barely contained rage, commanded, "Accept it. This is the confrontation I've been awaiting."
He slammed the receiver down and left the office.
Upon his arrival at the Presidential Hotel, a cunning smile played upon Valentine's lips.
He pushed open the door to the private room, and as he entered, Andrea rose to her feet, her gaze fixed on Valentine Anderson with another man's face.