Chapter 219: The VIPs at Isla

Liam stood at the edge of the dock with military precision, shoulders squared beneath the dark army uniform that marked both his rank and his bloodline. The wind swept across the harbor, stirring the hems of coats and uniforms alike, but he remained motionless—cold, disciplined, unreadable.

He wasn’t surprised to see familiar figures already gathered at the port.

General Artemio Fuegerro stood beside Colonel Aquilo Vibora, their imposing presences enough to silence the bustling personnel nearby. And beside them was his father, and Philip Hardy, the man responsible for turning the once-forgotten ruins of Calma into the most talked-about archaeological discovery in the country.

Today’s arrival was important.

Very important.

Two distinguished guests had come to Isla.

One was Anton Trillo—the legendary business tycoon whose name alone could move markets and topple competitors overnight.

The other was Governor Rogel Sanchez of Lanura, a veteran politician known for his influence across the country.

The moment the yacht docked, security personnel immediately moved into formation. Men in black suits stepped onto the pier first, scanning every corner before allowing the two influential figures to disembark.

Governor Rogel adjusted the cuffs of his beige coat and let out a low whistle as he looked around the harbor.

“This is quite the reception,” he remarked, amusement lacing his voice. “I thought we were visiting an excavation site, not attending a presidential summit.”

Anton Trillo stepped down behind him, polished leather shoes clicking against the wooden dock. His sharp eyes swept across the island with practiced calculation.

“Philip Hardy was always theatrical,” Anton said calmly. “Even when he visited a few months back.”

Rogel chuckled. “Still, you agreed to come.”

Anton’s lips curved faintly, though the expression never reached his eyes.

“An ancient royal city buried beneath an island?” he said. “Who wouldn’t be tempted. This place will become the most valuable historical site in the country within a decade. Besides, I have my selfish motive.”

“Selfish motive?” Rogel asked quietly. Then he chuckled. “Of course, it must be money.”

Anton glanced toward the distant southern cliffs where the restored mausoleum stood beyond the forest.

“This island is worth far more than money.”

For a brief moment, silence passed between them.

The wind howled softly across lake creating ripples that marred the once still waters.

Then footsteps approached.

Philip Hardy descended the stone stairs with a wide smile stretched across his face, his posture radiating confidence and hospitality.

“Governor Gila. Mr. Trillo.” He extended both hands warmly. “Welcome to Isla. Welcome to Calma. It’s an honor to finally have two distinguished men such as yourselves here.” He said in flattering voice.

Rogel accepted the handshake first, laughing lightly. “With a welcome like this, Philip, I’d think you were preparing for a royal visit.”

Philip grinned. “For Calma’s future? I would prepare even more.”

Anton shook Philip’s hand next, firm and measured.

“You’ve certainly invested heavily in appearances,” Anton observed.

Philip’s smile sharpened slightly, sensing the hidden meaning beneath the comment.

“First impressions matter,” he replied smoothly. “Especially when asking visionary men to believe in something the rest of the world still doubts.”

Anton studied him for a second longer before nodding once.

“I hope the ruins are more impressive than the stories.”

Philip gestured toward the convoy of armored vehicles waiting nearby.

“Oh, they are,” he said confidently. “And today, gentlemen… you’ll witness history.”

Philip Hardy had spent the last few months desperately securing investors to continue the excavation and restoration of Calma. Bringing these two men here was no coincidence.

This extravagant reception, the armed escorts, the decorated convoy waiting near the dock—it was all part of his carefully crafted performance to win their favor.

To secure their money.

Liam’s eyes swept across the crowd again, sharper this time.

But Ares was nowhere in sight.

A faint crease appeared between his brows as he pulled out his phone and typed a message.

Liam: Ares, where are you? Do you know who’s at Isla? You are missing the fun.

Several seconds passed before his phone vibrated.

Ares: I know. I’ll be there soon and join them.

Liam slipped the phone back into his pocket and silently watched as the guests, along with their heavily armed security detail, boarded the designated vehicles.

One after another, the black armored SUVs rolled away from the harbor, heading toward the southern sector of the island.

Toward the royal mausoleum.

The first structure ever uncovered in Isla.

Now fully restored, it had been renamed the Kromwel Mausoleum—a place wrapped in mystery, death, and rumors of a forgotten royal bloodline.

But now, they were no longer rumors.

Liam’s gaze eventually settled on Anton Trillo.

The man was already in his early fifties, yet age seemed to have failed him. He remained tall and commanding, with the physique of someone decades younger. His sharp features and composed expression carried the unmistakable aura of a man accustomed to power.

A dangerous man.

Like Liam’s father, Anton Trillo once served in the military before abandoning the battlefield for the world of business. But unlike ordinary men who sought wealth, Anton had built an empire powerful enough to rival governments.

And in the shadows of that empire, there existed one undeniable truth—

Anton Trillo was Ares Zuvel’s greatest rival.

…

Meanwhile, Lara and Amelia had already been briefed about the arrival of the distinguished guests scheduled to reach the island before noon. Orders had come directly from the administration—both of them were to return immediately to the mausoleum.

They had been personally selected to guide the visitors.

Not the professors.

Not the historians.

Them.

The realization alone was enough to make Amelia nervous.

Inside the preparation quarters near the excavation camp, the two women changed into the official attire prepared for the tour. Soft white blouses with flowing bell sleeves draped elegantly over their figures, paired with dark wide-legged trousers that resembled skirts when standing still, the fabric swaying gracefully with every movement.

The outfit was unmistakably inspired by the fashion of ancient Calma.

And ironically, it had become popular because of Lara herself.

Months ago, when the restoration project first began, Lara had recreated the clothing based on fragmented murals found within the ruins.

But of course she just used that as an excuse.

For she knew by heart who started that fashion back then.

Photos of her wearing the design had spread online overnight. Soon, historians, influencers, and even fashion brands became obsessed with the “Calman style.”

A famous designer even created a summer collection she branded as Empress Lara Collection.

Now it had become the unofficial symbol of the Royal City buried under Isla.

Amelia adjusted the sleeve on her wrist before glancing sideways at Lara.

“You think they’re really just investors?” she asked quietly.

Lara finished tying her hair behind her back, her expression calm but distant.

“No,” she answered without hesitation.

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