Siren drives through the bustling traffic on her motorcycle, a blur of motion amidst the chaos of the city streets. She halted in front of the renowned bar of Worcester city. Seeing her, the security guard didn't block as she is a regular here.

Shrugging off her sleek black leather jacket, Siren slung it over her shoulder and made her way to the bar counter with purpose. A craving for the crisp taste of lemon Moscato led her to place her order, her lips tingling in anticipation as she took the first sip of the chilled white wine.

Her gaze, crackling with electric intensity, swept over the dimly lit expanse of the bar, taking in every detail with a keen eye. In the midst of her survey, a waiter approached her with a respectful bow, presenting her with a glass of deep red Port wine.

"Madam, the gentleman over there sent this over for you," the waiter informed her, gesturing towards a figure on the second floor. 

Siren's brow furrowed as she followed the waiter's indication, locking eyes with Raven, who wore a smug smirk on his lips.

What's up with this son and father duo always showing in front of her at odd times?, Siren thought in her mind.

As she locked eyes with Raven once more, she sensed an intensity in his gaze as though he sought to unravel her very essence, to delve into the depths of her soul with his penetrating stare.

"Miss Siren, you're here. Our manager has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Shall we?" Another waiter interrupted her thoughts, motioning towards the manager's room with a respectful bow.

Standing from her stool, Siren cast a sidelong glance at the waiter, who remained frozen in his bowing posture. With a swift motion, she drained the red wine in glass, relishing the sweet burst of flavor on her tongue. Handing the empty glass back to the man, she followed the new waiter towards the manager's room.

A single droplet of sweat trickled down the forehead of the bowing waiter, falling silently to the floor below. His hand trembled slightly from a mixture of fear and relief, grateful that his head remained intact for another day.

"Ahh… it's not fair why does she have to drink that?" Hardin exasperated and slumped on the couch.

Raven remained fixated on Siren's retreating figure until she vanished behind the door. "She knows," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"What? What more does she know?" Hardin pressed, turning to his friend with a furrowed brow, eager for answers.

Hardin's spirits had plummeted to an all-time low after his failure to gather the information Raven had tasked him with. As if it was not enough, he has been called a thief, a pervert, beaten with sneakers and his…his balls. Forget it, he will test for fertility afterwards.

His thoughts drifted to the memory of those mocking blonde curls, causing him to clench his fists and grit his teeth in frustration. He, the almighty Hardin Spencer has never been humiliated like this in his twenty seven years of life.

Raven observed his friend's seething anger who seemed as if he wanted to break someone's neck. 

"What did you find?" Raven's voice cut through the tension, his gaze steady as he awaited Hardin's report.

Hardin snapped out of his reverie, his mind still swirling with resentment. "She's clean, no ties to the underground," he began, pausing as uncertainty crept into his voice.

"Go on," Raven encouraged, taking a leisurely sip of the Vintage Port wine he had ordered for Siren, his demeanor calm and composed in stark contrast to Hardin's turmoil.

"There's no record of how she ended up in the orphanage, and she was adopted just two months after being admitted. Doesn't that strike you as odd?" Hardin's voice was laced with intrigue and suspicion as he relayed his findings to Raven.

Raven remained silent, absorbing Hardin's words with a keen attentiveness that spoke volumes.

"Look into Alex's past," his tone resolute as he downed the remaining contents of his glass and shrugged on his coat, a sense of urgency in his movements.

"And..." Raven interjected, his voice commanding attention as he held Hardin's gaze.

"Wipe the shoe mark off your face," he added with a crooked smile, before swiftly exiting the bar.

Hearing this Hardin's face hardened and his eyes filled with rage, "N.O.A.H C.A.R.T.E.R"

Siren stepped into the room indicated by the waiter, finding the door swiftly closed behind her with the waiter positioned as a guard. As she entered, she was met by the sight of a silver-haired man who greeted her with enthusiasm, moving in for a warm embrace.

"Finally, my baby is here!" he exclaimed, his arms outstretched.

"Touch me and you're dead," Siren retorted, her expression impassive.

"Ouch... I'm hurt," the man chuckled, unfazed by her threat, and proceeded to ruffle her hair, earning a sharp glare from Siren in response.

They both took a seat opposite to the man who was busy reading a file in his hand. Seeing that they both finished the quarrel he slid the file in his hand to Siren.

"Here, the details you asked for," he stated crisply.

Siren accepted the file from the table, her fingers flipping through the pages with a focused intensity as her eyes absorbed every detail.

The man who had handed her the file observed her closely, breaking the silence with a casual inquiry. "How are you doing?"

Siren's movements halted abruptly, her attention shifting from the file to the man seated opposite her. "Better. Why do you ask?" she responded, her tone guarded.

Leaning back against the sofa, the man adjusted his glasses and narrowed his gaze, focusing on the palm of her right hand. 

"I told you not to hurt yourself," he remarked. 

At his words, the silver-haired man, who had been silent until now, suddenly sprang into action, reaching out to inspect Siren's hand. 

"Baby, what happened to your hand?" he questioned, his voice filled with worry.

Pulling her hand away from his grasp, Siren remained composed, her expression unreadable.

 "It's just an accidental cut from glass," she replied tersely, her attention returning to the file in her hands.

With a swift motion, she folded the file and slipped it into her jacket, rising from her seat. "Be careful. Someone will soon try to dig up," she warned cryptically, her words laden with implication.

"We will," the man assured her with a solemn nod, their unspoken understanding hanging heavy in the air as Siren made her exit out of the room.

The silver-haired man pouted seeing her leaving so soon and asked the man, "Ruth, Is she going to be okay?"

Ruth, who had been thinking of something, smiled brightly and replied, "Sam, don't you love picking out mini dresses for children? Let's go do that now!"

The dumbfounded Sam, "What?"