Joel stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard, the drawers still half-open, clothes scattered across the floor like a storm had passed through.
Nothing.
No necklace.
His hands curled into fists.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, voice low at first—then rising with frustration. "Where is it?"
He kicked lightly at the edge of the bed, then paused, scanning again. His eyes moved over every corner, every surface, every possible hiding place.
Still nothing.
A sharp curse escaped him, louder this time, carrying the weight of anger and humiliation. "This is ridiculous."
For a moment he stood still, chest rising and falling. Then slowly, he straightened his shirt, trying to regain control of himself.
"This isn't over," he said under his breath.
He turned and walked out of the room.
But what he didn't see—just inches away, tucked beneath the edge of the bedside table—was the necklace. It glinted faintly in the dim light, hidden perfectly from view, as if the room itself was protecting it.
Joel's footsteps faded down the stairs.
Downstairs, the house had shifted back into its controlled calm.
Lucy walked in holding a small gift box wrapped neatly in soft paper. Her expression was unreadable—composed, but sharp underneath.
"Maids!" she called out firmly.
One of them quickly appeared.
Lucy didn't even slow her steps. She handed over the box without looking at it for long.
"Take this and throw it away," she said coldly. "I don't want it in this house."
"Yes, madam," the maid replied nervously, taking it carefully.
Joel, who had just come down the stairs, paused at a distance.
He watched silently.
Lucy turned slightly, her attention already elsewhere, as if the box had never mattered in the first place.
Joel's lips curled into a faint smirk.
Not amusement exactly… something closer to calculation.
He didn't say anything.
But his eyes lingered on the moment longer than they should have.
And then he turned away, as if storing it away in his mind.
Canary had barely stepped into the courtyard when Joel appeared beside him, hands tucked in his pockets as though he belonged there.
"Canary," Joel said casually. "I was looking for you."
"I'm busy," Canary replied, not slowing his steps.
Joel matched him anyway. "Of course you are. Nights like this, everyone pretends to be busy." He glanced around the compound. "The launch was something though. Very polished. Very… controlled."
Canary didn't respond.
Joel continued lightly, "You didn't stay long at the end. I kept wondering if something was wrong."
Canary stopped and looked at him. "Say what you want."
Joel smiled faintly. "No need to rush. I actually noticed something near the side of the house. Thought it might interest you."
Canary's eyes narrowed slightly. "What kind of something?"
"Just a gift," Joel said. "A box. Looked like it was meant for someone important. It was near the trash bins."
Canary didn't answer. He turned and walked toward the side of the compound.
Joel followed a few steps behind, watching him.
The trash bins stood in a row, half-shadowed near the wall. Canary reached them and paused briefly before lifting one lid.
He leaned in and reached inside.
After a moment, he pulled out a neatly wrapped box.
He held it still, not opening it.
Joel stood behind him, silent, hands still in his pockets.
" Don't you want to check what is inside ?" Joel asked
Canary opened the box.
Inside was a neatly folded knitted sweater—carefully made, soft, clearly personal. Beneath it lay a small note.
His fingers paused before unfolding it.
The handwriting was Lisa's.
He read.
"Happy birthday, Canary. I wanted to give you something made by hand, something that takes time—because you've always given me your time without asking for anything back."
"I hope today makes you feel as appreciated as you make others feel every day."
For a moment, he didn't move. The note stayed open in his hands, the sweater resting against his palm.
Then his expression tightened slightly, something shifting behind his calm face.
He closed the box slowly.
"Who did this?" he asked, voice low and controlled.
Joel gave a faint, almost lazy smile. "Why ask me?"
Canary's eyes lifted. "Don't play games."
Joel shrugged lightly. "I only know where I saw it end up."
Canary stepped forward a fraction. "Tell me who threw it away."
Joel held his gaze briefly, then turned without answering and started walking back toward the house.
"Joel," Canary called after him, sharper now.
But Joel didn't stop.
Canary stood still for a second, then followed inside.
His voice cut through the hallway.
"Maids!"
A maid hurried forward immediately, startled.
"Can someone tell me who did this!" he demanded, holding up the box.
Her hands shook. "Sir… Mrs Anderson said it should be disposed of. I didn't know what was inside. I just followed instructions."
Canary's gaze sharpened. "Mom ?"
The maid hesitated, voice dropping. " Yes she said it should be thrown away"
At that very moment, Ketra appeared drawn by the tension in the hallway and Canary's voice cutting through the house. She slowed when she saw him standing there, still holding the box.
"Canary… what's going on?" she asked carefully.
Canary didn't look away from the maids. " Where is Mom ? "
" What's with the noise ?" Lucy entered.
Her presence changed the atmosphere instantly—composed, elegant, unreadable. Her eyes moved briefly to the box in Canary's hands, then to his face.
"What is all this disturbance about?" she asked evenly.
Canary stepped forward. "You ordered Lisa's gift to be thrown away."
A flicker passed across Lucy's expression, gone quickly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The sweater. The note. My birthday gift," he said, voice tightening. "You had it thrown into the trash."
Lucy glanced at the maids. "Everyone out. Give us the room."
The maids hesitated, then quickly left. Ketra lingered a second longer, worried, but Lucy's gaze was enough to send her away too.
The room fell quiet with just the two of them.
Canary didn't waste time. "Why would you do that?"
Lucy exhaled softly, as if he were being dramatic. "Because I am protecting you."
"From what?" his voice rose slightly. "From her?"
"Yes," Lucy replied without hesitation. "Lisa is not suitable for you."
Canary stared at her. "That's not your decision."
"It is when it concerns your future," she said firmly. "Your name, your position, everything you carry—"
" But Mom ! " he cut in.
Lucy's tone stayed controlled. " We aren't discussing Canary"