**Chapter 48: All That Love Had Conditions**
“Yes, you recited the protection sigil, so it can’t get near you right now. It’s not hanging around nearby either,” Venus stated, her voice steady and composed. “It probably went back home. I’ll need to accompany you to catch it.”
“Okay, let’s go now!” Neoma exclaimed, determination radiating from her as she practically yanked Venus toward the door of her upscale apartment.
As they stepped inside, an overwhelming wave of dark energy enveloped them, thick and suffocating. The walls seemed to pulse with an eerie presence, covered in black handprints that appeared to writhe in the air like sinister shadows.
Venus’s brow furrowed slightly as she surveyed the chaotic scene. Her gaze flicked to Neoma, who stood unfazed amidst the darkness. That could only signify one thing: in a moment of panic, she had washed away the gravewater.
If Neoma had still been able to see the marks, there was a good chance she would have collapsed right there.
Neoma bent down to grab a pair of disposable slippers, her movements quick and purposeful. But then she froze, her eyes widening as she spotted a pair of men’s leather shoes neatly arranged by the shoe rack. Instinctively, she turned to Venus, urgency lacing her voice as she tried to nudge her back toward the door.
“Maybe… maybe we should do this another day—”
But it was too late.
A warm voice drifted from the bedroom, smooth and inviting. “Neoma? You’re back earlier than I expected.”
A tall, impeccably dressed man emerged from the shadows of the bedroom, clad in casual pajamas. The moment his eyes landed on them, surprise flickered across his face, quickly followed by a fleeting moment of panic that he tried to mask by turning his head slightly. “I didn’t know you were bringing someone over today,” he said, his tone casual, but Neoma could sense an underlying tension.
Confusion washed over Neoma. Her boyfriend was supposed to be out of town for a shoot—what was he doing here? She shot an awkward glance at Venus and introduced him, “This is… my boyfriend.”
She watched Venus’s expression intently, waiting for any sign of recognition or reaction.
But Venus remained impassive, her face a mask of neutrality. No flicker of acknowledgment, no hint that she recognized him. Neoma let out a quiet breath of relief. Thank goodness—she hadn’t figured out who he was.
With a sense of urgency, Neoma ushered the man back into the bedroom, where they whispered hurriedly behind the closed door.
Venus didn’t need to eavesdrop; she could already guess what they were discussing.
Because that man wasn’t just anyone. He was Earl Obrien, one of the entertainment industry’s most cherished “family men.”
At the height of his career, Earl had married young, expertly crafting his public persona as a devoted husband and father. His popularity soared during his 40s, with viral stories circulating about him cooking dinner for his wife and daughter. Despite his age, he maintained a massive fanbase, revered as one of the “good ones” in a world often rife with scandal.
And yet, here he was—secretly living with one of the hottest rising actresses in the business, and she was pregnant with his child.
About ten minutes later, Earl emerged from the bedroom, now dressed in a black windbreaker, baseball cap pulled low, and face mask obscuring his features. Without uttering a word, he strode briskly out of the apartment, urgency in his every step.
Neoma trailed behind him, her heart racing, then turned to Venus with an apologetic smile. “He had work stuff to take care of. Sorry about that. So… when do we start?”
Venus regarded her with a calm demeanor, though her voice held a weighty undertone. “Does your boyfriend know you’re pregnant?”

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