Chapter 700
The man respectfully bowed and greeted, “Hello, Ms. Chamberlain. Mr. Romello would like to meet you. Please come with me.”
“Mr. Romello?”
ded
The awards ceremony had ended almost half an hour ago, and the venue was eerily quiet.
Howard drove quietly, discreetly arriving to pick up Phoebe and bring her home.
After sending a message to Phoebe, he waited in the garage for a while. Yet, even after waiting for five minutes, Phoebe still had not come downstairs. He called her, only to find her phone powered off.
Worried, Howard put on his mask and went upstairs to find her.
The dressing room designated for Phoebe had a sign on the door, and Howard pushed the door open only to find the room empty.
Immediately, he called Yuri and ordered, “Investigate the surveillance footage; Phoebe is missing!”
Phoebe was forcefully taken back to the Nicholls residence by the bodyguard.
It was dark outside as she stood at the entrance, feeling puzzled.
“Why did Romello ask you to bring me here? What does he want?“.
The bodyguard offered no explanation, gesturing to her to go inside and find out.
Phoebe hesitated, wanting to message Howard, but the bodyguard swiftly snatched her phone.
“Ms. Chamberlain, rest assured. Mr. Romello won’t harm you. He is a man of justice within the organization and wouldn’t engage in any unlawful activities, especially considering your fame.”
Skeptical, Phoebe followed the bodyguard inside.
Finally, at the entrance to the altar room, the bodyguard opened a small door,
go bowing respectfully as he said, “Mr. Romello is waiting inside. Please in.”
Phoebe could not comprehend what Romello was up to, but she doubted he could do anything malicious in a place as solemn as the altar room.
She entered the room and found the vast altar room illuminated with soft lights. The candle flames flickered around the statues and crosses, and a faint scent of sandalwood wafted through the air, creating a serene atmosphere.
Romello knelt on a cushion, his eyes slightly closed as he was engrossed in praying.
Upon hearing footsteps, Romello politely bowed before turning around to face Phoebe, who stood by the door.
He greeted her with a mild smile, his tone amiable.
“Ms. Chamberlain, do you remember our last meeting?”
Phoebe remained indifferent, saying, “Please get straight to the point. I’m very busy.”
“Sure, I won’t take up much of your time. Let me be brief.”
Approaching Phoebe, Romello took a photo from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Take a look at this.”
Phoebe accepted it, puzzled.
It was a photo of a woman in her early thirties gazing at the camera with a gentle smile. Though not strikingly beautiful, she had a clean and pleasant appearance. More importantly, there was a striking resemblance between her and Phoebe.
However, Phoebe was certain she had never worn the outfit in the photo, and she had never participated in a modern drama shoot.
The woman in the photo could not be her.
Doubtful, she looked up to meet Romello’s eyes and asked, “What are you trying to say?”
Romello’s gaze softened with regret as he replied, “I’m sorry. I’ve not been a responsible brother to you. I’ve been occupied with official matters these years, rarely paying attention to the entertainment industry. If it weren’t for seeing you at the Jenkins estate that day, I might not have any clues by now. I apologize for the unnecessary hardship you’ve endured for over twenty years.”
“Brother?”
Phoebe’s heart skipped a beat as she glanced at the photo and then back at Romello, finding it hard to believe.
“Mr. Romello, you must be mistaken. I’ve been at the Farlem orphanage since I
was a child, so I can’t possibly be a Nicholls, nor can I suddenly have a brother.”
Romello, hands behind his back, shifted his gaze back to the altar, calmly beginning his narrative.
“The year you were born, the Nicholls family was in turmoil. I was only eight, and Dad brought back a one–year–old illegitimate son, Nathaniel, after a business trip to Laubabwe.”
Phoebe was puzzled, “What does Nathaniel have to do with me?”
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