Alex arrived at Mr.
Thompson’s home and was directed by his butler to meet him at the garden.
The estate was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy rather than peaceful.
Even the wind seemed cautious as it brushed past the hedges.
Alex barely noticed any of it.
His mind was already racing ahead of him.
He greeted Mr.
Thompson.
“Good day, Uncle.”
“Good day,” Mr.
Thompson replied.
His tone was calm, but his eyes lingered on Alex a moment longer than usual, as if trying to read the urgency written all over his face.
Alex didn’t bother sitting down or exchanging pleasantries.
Alex went straight to the point.
“Did you notice anything unusual at the ceremony?”
Mr.
Thompson answered, “No.
The enemy didn’t make a move at the barrier.”
He spoke with confidence, but there was a slight pause before his response—subtle, but enough to show he had been thinking about the same question.
“Yeah, but I noticed something,” Alex continued.
“She went to the lookout room.
She figured out that we’d be watching her closely, and she’s about to use the blind spot.”
His words tangled as his thoughts raced faster than his speech.
He stopped himself abruptly, jaw tightening.
Alex cut himself off.
“Let me ask you something.
Please, your man is watching Maria, right?
Can you please call him?”
There was urgency now—sharp and unmistakable.
“Alright,” Mr.
Thompson said.
He took his phone and called, but it went straight to voicemail.
The ringing tone didn’t last long before it died, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence.
“Oops.
Looks like there’s no network.”
He tried to make it sound casual, but even he didn’t fully believe that explanation.
“No,” Alex said, standing quickly.
“I’m going to look for Maria.
My gut tells me that she is in danger.
I shouldn’t have left.
I shouldn’t have trusted anyone.”
His chair scraped harshly against the ground as he stood.
The calm garden suddenly felt suffocating.
He rushed off, leaving Mr.
Thompson alone in the garden.
Mr.
Thompson remained seated for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand.
Something about the situation didn’t sit right with him anymore.
Alex rushed back to Maria’s apartment and found it empty.
He burst into her bedroom.
The door slammed against the wall as he pushed it open, his breath uneven.
“She’s gone,” he said.
“Nowhere to be found.”
The emptiness of the room felt wrong.
He tried calling her, but no one picked up.
Each ring made him more unstable.
He held his breath, waiting to hear Maria’s voice.
So he called Mr.
Thompson instead.
“Mr.
Thompson, Uncle—she isn’t here.
She’s not here at all.
Please, track her number.”
His voice cracked slightly despite his effort to stay composed.
“I will do that,” Mr.
Thompson said.
“Please, be quick.
I’ll try to look for her myself.”
Then Alex clutched his phone and ran out of the house.
He started walking from street to street, calling her number over and over.
People passed by him, unaware of the storm building inside him.
Cars moved, shops buzzed, life continued—but for Alex, everything had narrowed down to one thing: finding Maria.
When he got to a particular shop, he called the number again and heard the ringing tone nearby.
At first, he thought it was his imagination.
But then it came again—faint, but real.
He followed the sound and saw the phone on the floor, cracked.
The screen reflected fragments of light, broken and lifeless.
Then it hit him: _She was kidnapped._ Because no normal person would drop their phone on the floor with the screen cracked like that.
A cold realization settled over him, heavy and undeniable.
Meanwhile, Maria had been taken to the villa outside town.
The vehicle moved quickly along the quiet road, far from the noise of the city.
The shadow men watching over her also followed.
They were trying — especially Wax was trying — to contact Mr.
Thompson, but there was no signal.
So they had to take action into their own hands.
Their movements were precise, disciplined.
They didn’t speak much, but their intent was clear.
They followed her quietly as the guards carried the unconscious Maria into the villa.
Every step was calculated, every shadow used to their advantage.
The shadow men stayed outside, waiting for an opportunity to save the victim.
Patience was their strength, but time was slipping.
The guards took Maria into the storeroom and threw her on the floor without mercy.
She whimpered, but she was too unconscious to wake.
The dull thud echoed in the small room before silence swallowed it.
They turned, closed the door, and the leader ordered them to guard the door.
“I will inform the young master,” he said.
Then he went to inform Luke that the target had been brought.
His footsteps faded, leaving Maria alone in the dim, suffocating space.
Once he was gone, Wax came in quietly with other men.
Wax signaled once.
Two men peeled left.
He took the first guard from behind — hand over mouth, blade to the throat.
No sound.
The second guard turned.
He hit the floor.
A knee to the temple.
Out.
Third guard reached for his radio.
Wax closed the distance, twisted his wrist until the radio clattered.
Elbow to the jaw.
Down.
“Guard the door,” Wax said.
“You—get the key.”
He went in and saw Maria inside.
He carried her out silently.
His movements were swift, practiced, almost invisible.
When he came out, the other shadow men were able to snatch the car key from one of the unconscious guards.
The leader went to inform Luke.
“Young master and madam, she has been brought here.” Celine was satisfied that her plan was working and stood up.
When they heard the zooming of a bus, they knew something was wrong.
Suspicion crept in slowly, then all at once.
So Celine picked up the phone and ordered the security guard at the gate: “Do not allow that bus out of the villa.”
Her voice was sharp, commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.
Alex called Mr.
Thompson.
“Uncle, help me.
I don’t know what to do.
Are you able to contact your men?”
He was walking faster now, almost running, his breath uneven.
Mr.
Thompson said, “No.
I wasn’t able to reach them.”
The admission felt heavier this time.
“But can’t you at least track Maria?” Alex said.
“Her phone… her phone is here.”
His voice dropped at the end, weighed down by fear.
“No,” Mr.
Thompson replied.
“So what should we do?”
For once, even he didn’t have an immediate answer.
“I’m trying to access the CCTV cameras, but it looks like she was kidnapped at a blind spot,” he continued.
The realization made everything feel more calculated—more dangerous.
“My God,” Alex said.
“Please, Uncle.
If you can turn this country upside down, please help me.
Maria… she is my life.
If anything happens to her, I swear I’ll take revenge.
It’ll be the end of the world for me.
Please, please do anything you can.
End this deadly madness.”
His voice broke completely now, no longer held together by control.
Mr.
Thompson felt his pain, but he didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t know how to console his nephew.
He just said a simple word: “Alright.
I will.
I will try.”
But even as he said it, he knew this situation was already spiraling beyond what simple effort could fix.