The woman stood still, her body tense. Her golden mask, a true work of art adorned with gemstones, concealed the upper part of her face, revealing only her lips and chin. It was more than just a mask—it was a masterpiece.

Elijah’s expression darkened as he whispered to his subordinate, “After all this searching, you bring me this?!”

The subordinate stammered nervously, “S-Sir, we hired the best private investigators in Centrolis and followed your leads. This is the result.”

The subordinate handed over some documents to Elijah, who flipped through them with mixed emotions. They lacked a photograph of the woman and contained only a brief life history.

Sasha Harding had spent her life in Southeast Aciatic, frequenting entertainment establishments and having strong ties to the criminal underworld there. Most notably, her mother was none other than the infamous Madame Krys, a human trafficker.

“You’re Sasha Harding?” Elijah’s eyes narrowed. “Is your mother Krystal Harding?”

“That’s correct,” Sasha replied, her voice cool and slightly hoarse, hinting at a life marked by hardship.

“Your throat…”

not in great shape. Three years ago, I was in an accident that damaged my appearance and vocal cords. My mother made this mask for me, and I’ve worn

the mask, a genuine one at

accustomed to fine things and could tell it was authentic. Such

you doubt my identity, look at this,” Sasha said,

it as his father’s possession. The pocket watch came in a pair, and

to reveal a photo of

coldly. “And the

Kasey exchanged a knowing

had discovered

deeply. After a moment, he muttered, “One pocket

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