Evan laughed. “Do you have any idea how big Silveraberg is?”

Even the Norwoods, the family that abandoned him, were an important part of Silverton, yet they were nothing more than a speck of dust in Silveraberg. The Solberg family was a big one, yet not even they could control the whole of Silveraberg.

Silveraberg was on par with Uppersea, and maybe even Imperia. A single person having enough power to grant him immunity in Silveraberg? Preposterous.

The bodyguard shook his head and grinned. “No, and I don’t have to.”

Evan noticed he stood taller the moment he said that. That was pride that came from within. If a bodyguard had that much pride, then his employer must have even more of that.

“Very well,” said Evan. “But there’s one more thing I must do before I go.”

“But I thought you cut your family off already.” The bodyguard was surprised.

Evan said nothing. Instead, he told the bodyguard to drive him to the mall. Then, he watched Evan walk into a barber shop. “What are we doing here?”

Evan told the barber, “I need a change of hairstyle.”

The barber sized him up. He kindly said, “Sir, that’s the most popular style of the year. I can see a top fashion artist styled you up. There’s nothing to change!”

“I hate this hairstyle. Just change it!” said Evan coldly.

The heiresses’ obsession with controlling everything about Evan had gone into total overdrive. They dictated everything about him, down until his hairstyle and clothes. They were the ones who came up with the whole style he was wearing now, and they forbade him from changing it how he wanted.

If he tried to, and they found out, they would punish him.

There was this one time where they made him wear a custom-made tuxedo, and the collar was suffocating him, so he changed out of it.

The heiresses went ballistic when they found out. He would never forget how they roared at him. He thought they would tear him apart and eat his remains. The heiresses dressed him up as Zeke would dress himself up.

His clothes, his accessories, and even his hair were all Zeke’s style.

Evan had enough of that.

He gave the money back, and they were estranged. Now, he wanted to be himself.

“Give me a buzzcut!” demanded Evan, and something radiated around him.

The barber was shocked, and he quickly trimmed Evan’s hair.

…

With every move, more of Evan’s hair fell. Freshness welled within his heart. It wasn’t just hair he was cutting off; it was the chains of the past. He was killing the fetters that kept him locked. He could feel the collar around his neck fading away.

Soon, the haircut was done. Evan stood before the mirror, looking at his reflection. The style change made him handsome, his lines sharp.

Evan was more aggressive now, inside out. He had the air of a real man. Buzzcut was a true test of a man’s looks.

The idol look still made him look good, but it lacked a man’s powerful air. Now he had that air. His eyes blazed like roaring braziers shining with energy.

The bodyguard watched the whole trim, and he was stunned. All Evan did was trim his hair, and it almost felt like he had a total makeover.

…

Evan left the barber shop and stepped into a men’s fashion store. He took off the expensive custom-made suit the heiresses bought for him and changed into casual wear.

He hated suits. They were very suffocating. Loose casual wear was more his style. These changes meant the old Evan was dead.

The man standing here now was a new man.

“What do we do with these?” The bodyguard pointed at the ring, bracelet, necklace, and all the other accessories. These items came from Bulgari’s charity gala.

Once that person was found, Evan would be redundant to him. Even if he died, the heiresses wouldn’t say anything about it. A hint of murder flickered across his face when they weren’t looking.

Roxanne was the one leading the search. She shook her head. “Not yet, but we’ll find them soon. No matter the outcome, Evan will give you his blood anytime.”

Zeke stared into the distance, his gaze terrifyingly cruel. He thought, ‘Life must be hard for you, eh? But don’t worry. Once we find that donor, I’ll put you out of your misery.’

Waves of hurried footsteps echoed in the hospital’s corridor.

“What’s the ruckus?” Anya frowned.

Hazel looked outside, but she did not leave the ward. “It’s probably an influx of patients.”

It was not. Evan was right under the building, watching the patrolling group in stunned awe. Medical staff aside, there were special forces walking around, and they were armed. The footsteps came from these soldiers.

The bodyguard noticed Evan’s shock, and he smiled. “They’re Old Mr. Stanton’s visitors.”

“Who’s—” Evan didn’t need the answer. That must be Sylvie’s grandfather. Now he wondered who she really was. She promised no one in Silveraberg could touch him, and now her grandfather’s presence attracted even the special forces.

…

The ER was packed. An old man demanded, “How much longer must we wait, Sylvie? Your grandfather’s already dead!”

That man was Sylvie’s uncle, William Stanton. Everyone else either kept their silence or watched the old man in the operating theater. His eyes were closed, like he was sleeping.

Sylvie’s grandfather, the imposing and respected Iron Dragon, passed away moments ago. The military, as per law, would take the corpse of a high-standing officer like his away for a grand funeral.

However, Sylvie protested as hard as she could. Tear tracks covered her face, but her eyes were filled with determination. “Just give it a minute! He’ll show up! He can save Grandpa!”