On the outskirts of Terrilyn City stands a quiet estate.

Beside the wrought iron gate, a black plaque gleams under the early light, etched in elegant gold: Manford House.

The Manford House estate lies within a peaceful neighborhood, where the most frequent sound is the melodic call of birds echoing between the trees.

In autumn, the streets are blanketed in a rich carpet of orange leaves, swaying gently in the breeze.

But on this morning, that serenity is broken.

The sudden wail of sirens pierces the quiet.

Police cars roar down the street, their tires scattering the fallen leaves like startled birds.

They screech to a stop before the estate gates.

For a brief moment, all is still.

Then the gate opens.

The convoy enters, moving swiftly along the stone driveway before stopping at the steps of the mansion.

Uniformed officers emerge from the vehicles, their faces hard and focused.

Among them is a single man in civilian clothes—a young officer dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, clearly distinct.

From the entrance of the mansion, a servant steps forward.

He bows slightly and says, “Sirs, this way. The master is expecting you.”

The lead officer gives a curt nod.

“Take us to him.”

The man in the designer suit steps ahead, leading the others in.

The servant guides them through the grand entrance hall and into a long corridor.

Black marble lines the floor, polished until it reflects like still water.

The walls are adorned with paintings—each one clearly expensive, each frame gilded and spotless.

The corridor bends, and they step into a vast living room.

It’s large enough to sleep a hundred people side by side without effort.

The living room floor is paved with rose-colored marble, polished to a soft gleam.

The walls are painted a warm cream, giving the space a calm, elegant atmosphere.

Directly opposite the entrance, a wide staircase leads gracefully to the upper floor.

To the left, an open arch connects to the dining room.

To the right, instead of a solid wall, floor-to-ceiling glass panels let in the morning light.

One of the panels is designed to slide open, revealing a view of the spacious swimming pool outside, still and shimmering.

In the center of the room, tension hangs in the air.

Women sit on the sofas, some weeping into tissues, while the men either stand in silence, arms crossed with tight brows, or pace restlessly.

As the servant announces, “Master, the police officers have arrived,” every head in the room turns toward the entrance.

Those seated rise at once.

All eyes fix on the officers stepping into the room.

From among the gathering, a woman stands and walks forward—

An older woman, dressed impeccably, not a crease on her clothes nor a hair out of place.

Yet her porcelain-like skin is streaked with tears.

She approaches the young man in the tailored suit and speaks, her voice trembling, “Chris, please… quickly find Evelyn.”

Chris steps forward, his face softening.

He gently hugs the woman and pats her back with reassuring steadiness.

“Aunt Eleanor,” he says, “don’t worry. I’ll bring Evelyn back to you, safe and sound.”

They part slowly.

Chris then strides toward the center of the room, where an older man stands—dignified, expression calm, posture commanding.

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Chris bows slightly.

The man responds, “Get up, Chris. Tell us—what do you know about Evelyn so far?”

Chris straightens and scans the room.

He meets their anxious gazes, then asks firmly,

“How can all of you be so sure Evelyn was kidnapped? Only about eight hours have passed since the last contact.”

The room stiffens.

Agitation ripples through the group.

The older man narrows his eyes but remains silent, watching Chris closely.

But a younger man, his eyes red from lack of sleep, steps forward, voice tense.

“What do you mean? You think we’re lying?”

Chris calmly steps forward and places a hand on the man’s arm.

“I don’t doubt Evelyn was kidnapped,” he says gently. “But these are routine questions. You might not want to answer them—but every answer matters.”

He looks around the room.

“If we ask the right questions and get the right answers, the chances of finding her alive increase significantly.”

The older man gives a slow nod.

Then another man in the group speaks, “Evelyn sent an SOS message through her smartwatch.”

A uniformed officer beside Chris frowns.

“Could she have pressed the button by mistake?”

A woman sitting on the edge of a sofa sniffles, voice breaking, “We tried calling her right after that. But her phone said there was no signal.”

Another officer raises a brow.

“Then how did the SOS message go through?”

Chris answers without hesitation.

“Her watch is from SafePro. It’s the newest model—”

He pauses for effect.

“Even without phone signal, the watch has an independent satellite-based emergency system.”

“It can transmit SOS alerts anywhere—without relying on cell towers.”

One of the officers nods, crossing his arms.

“So that’s the kind of watch connected to a satellite and capable of sending distress signals?”

Another officer chimes in, “Then you should’ve been able to track her down already.”

The younger man from before steps forward, visibly frustrated.

“You think we didn’t try?” he snaps. “Her watch lost connection just seconds after the SOS was sent.”

“That’s why we called you in.”

Chris’s expression sharpens.

“What was her last known location?”

The young man exhales.

“Golden Feather Club. We sent people there immediately.”

“A security guard saw her car leave, heading east, but—” he pauses, jaw tightening, “—every CCTV in that area went down.”

“A power outage hit the entire block right after she left.”

One of the officers mutters, “This wasn’t random. That sounds like a planned abduction.”

Another asks, “Didn’t she have a security detail?”

Chris shakes his head.

“Evelyn never liked bodyguards. She said they made her feel like a prisoner.”

The older man, silent until now, finally speaks.

“Chris… what’s your next move?”

Chris doesn’t hesitate.

“We’ll start at the Golden Feather Club and sweep every road branching out from there. Someone must’ve seen something.”

The older man nods gravely.

The room falls into a heavy silence.

After a brief exchange of words, Chris and the officers leave Manford House—

Followed by several of Evelyn’s younger male relatives, their faces grim and fists clenched.

Outside, the sirens stay off.

But every car drives with purpose.

A couple of hours later, Chris is behind the wheel of his police car, scanning a quiet stretch of road branching from the Golden Feather Club.

The sun has climbed higher, casting long shadows across the asphalt.

Just then, his phone rings—

The car’s internal system connects the call.

His partner, seated beside him, taps the screen.

A woman’s voice fills the cabin, calm but urgent.

“Sir Chris, a Hetus RTX8 has been found crashed into the railing on Palus Bridge. The car is red, and the license plate matches Evelyn’s.”

Chris’s jaw tightens.

He slams his foot down on the accelerator.

“Anything else discovered?” he asks, voice sharp.

The voice on the line—Anna—continues, “Two signal jammers were found in the trunk. One blocks mobile tower connections, the other—satellite signals.”

Chris’s partner turns his head sharply.

“Satellite jammers? Aren’t those military grade?”

He exhales slowly.

“These kidnappers aren’t amateurs.”

Anna replies, “There’s more. New information just came in… she may not have been kidnapped at all.”

Chris glances at his partner, eyebrows raised.

The partner says, “What do you mean, Anna?”

Her voice lowers.

“A pair of heels were found near the broken railing. Judging by the marks, it looks like she might’ve jumped off the bridge.”

Chris’s expression darkens.

He pushes the accelerator harder.

The car roars forward, slicing through the road like a bullet—

No sirens.

Just speed.

——-

In a dimly lit room, four computer screens glow with lines of code, open tabs, and one fullscreen game.

A young man sits in front of them, focused, fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard.

Explosions flash on the screen, digital enemies fall one after another.

Then a sharp ringtone breaks the rhythm.

He pauses the game and picks up the call without glancing at the screen.

“What?” he says flatly.

A few seconds pass as he listens.

His tone sharpens.

“You all can return when I see her body. If not—continue searching.”

He ends the call without waiting for a reply.

Then picks up a second phone and dials.

“Hello, Mike,” he says, tone unchanged.

Silence for a beat as the line connects.

Then he asks, “Mike, if she dies—what’s the next plan?”

Another pause.

His fingers drum the desk.

“Okay,” he says finally. “I’ll make a plan for Elissa.”

He leans back in his chair.

“Should we still focus only on the Manford family?” he continues. “Maybe it’s time we start targeting the others too.”

He listens.

Then gives a curt nod and ends the call.

The room is quiet again.

He unpauses the game.

His hands move with lazy precision.

And under his breath, he mutters,

“Axerus.”

—–

Chris stands near the edge of the Palus Bridge, hands resting on the railing, eyes fixed on the restless river below.

The current churns violently, rushing eastward toward the shadowy expanse of the Yellowstone Forest.

His heart sinks deeper the longer he watches.

If Evelyn really jumped… and didn’t drown—

Then the river would have swept her into that vast, uncharted forest.

She would be injured.

Vulnerable.

And the wild predators of Yellowstone wouldn’t offer second chances.

With every passing minute, her odds of survival fade.

Behind him, the sound of tires screeching against pavement breaks his thoughts.

A car door slams.

“Chris, what did you find?” a familiar voice calls out.

Chris turns to see Evelyn’s brother and one of her uncles approaching in haste.

He answers without delay, voice low, “Evelyn may have jumped into the Palus River… to escape.”

Her brother stops short.

“What?”

He stares at Chris in disbelief, eyes wide.

“Are you sure?”

Chris doesn’t answer, just gestures toward the water.

Her brother follows his gaze—

And the horror sinks in.

In his mind, he thinks bitterly, It would’ve been better if she was kidnapped.

At least then, there’d be negotiation. A chance. A trail.

But now—

She’s in the wild. Alone.

And time is not on her side.

He looks to his uncle, who’s already pulling out his phone, walking away as he dials back to the family.

The urgency in the air thickens.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep