"Dylan!"

It was the first time Mrs. Ferguson ever called him by his full name, her fury so sharp she nearly lost her balance.

Dylan spun his wheelchair around, ready to leave without another word.

Mrs. Ferguson, shaking, waved over the nearest person, her voice cracking with panic. "What are you standing there for? Go find him! Now!"

She knew Dylan too well. If he said he'd do something, he'd do it no matter the cost.

She'd thought he was just being impulsive, never imagining he'd actually risk his life.

Quickly, she made another call. "Restore the deleted security footage. Give everything to Aiden."

With that done, she drained her cold tea in one gulp. All her usual composure and careful scheming disappeared in that single moment.

Meanwhile, Aiden was still frustrated, unable to find any trace of the missing footage. Then, out of nowhere, the entire set of surveillance videos landed on his desk in less than three minutes.

But whoever took Clara had planned it well. It'd been late at night, and the road to the temple was chosen for a reason-there were no cameras anywhere along that stretch.

was just nothing. No

the endless stream of cars on the monitor and pointed

up there. And look this way too-that's all wild hills, about ten kilometers from the temple. These cars didn't come back for a

could say yet. The truth was still up in the

*

for three days, not hearing another word

Ferguson, as she always did, just to check in. It was a habit—one that had kept them close for

Mrs. Ferguson's

"Tara, dear."

alright? Should I come by the house and

rattled. After everything with Dylan, she couldn't focus

said he'd die

any

the last ten years, ever since Dylan left, she'd watched

almost seemed

when he was warm and kind to everyone. She didn't

thinking the weight of it had just shut him down She didn't pry-after all, someone in his position didn't need extra

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