chapter322
“Mila, your intentions are written all over your face,” Phoebe muttered to herself, but when she dialed Mila’s number, there was no answer. She felt a prickle of unease and tried again, only to find the phone had been turned off.
A sense of foreboding washed over her. Phoebe rushed downstairs, her heart hammering against her ribs. She intercepted a maid in the foyer. “When did my friend leave?”
“I believe she left around 7:00 am, Miss,” the maid replied.
Phoebe glanced at the clock; it was already past eight. The commute shouldn't have taken more than twenty minutes. She paced the living room, her hands shaking as she dialed Nathan’s number.
“What is it?” Nathan’s voice was clipped, his tone typically indifferent.
“General Morrison, did Mila arrive at your place?” Phoebe asked, her voice tight with tension.
There was a pause on the other end. “She was coming here? No, I haven't seen her.”
“Then where could she be?” Phoebe’s voice rose in agitation.
The indifference in Nathan’s voice vanished instantly, replaced by a sharp, commanding edge. “Explain yourself. Exactly what is going on?”
“She left Hoffis Manor at 7:00 am to see you, but she’s nowhere to be found and her phone is off. There’s no way she hasn't reached Sudvilla by now.”
“Find her. Now,” Nathan commanded, his voice vibrating with a terrifying intensity that chilled Phoebe to the bone.
“I’m heading to the surveillance room!” Phoebe shouted as she dashed toward the manor’s security hub. “If she shows up, call me immediately.”
Inside the surveillance room, Phoebe scrutinized the footage. At 7:00 am, Mila was seen walking out of the gates with her suitcase. She moved toward a section of the road not covered by cameras—and simply vanished.
Phoebe Rewound the tape, her eyes narrowing. The only vehicle to pass through that blind spot at that exact moment was a black Tesla. “Whose car is that?” she asked, pointing at the screen.
The security guard, Ben Willis, leaned in. “That’s Mr. Hoffis’ car, Miss.”
“Oliver?” Phoebe’s face went pale. Her heart sank. The memory of what had happened to Mila’s parents loomed large in her mind. Trembling, she called Nathan back.
“Have you found her?” Nathan demanded the moment he picked up.
“General... Mila is missing. I have reason to believe Oliver intercepted her.”
Silence followed. It was the heavy, suffocating silence of a man whose patience had reached its absolute limit.
“I’m sorry, Nathan. I failed to protect her,” Phoebe whispered, close to tears.
“Find her location,” Nathan uttered coldly. The line went dead.
Mila slowly drifted back to consciousness. Her head throbbed with a dull, heavy ache, and her vision was blurred as she stared at an unfamiliar ceiling.
As the fog in her mind cleared, she tried to shift her weight, only to find her limbs were restricted. She was in a luxurious, sterile room—a gilded cage. When she tried to call out, she realized she had been gagged, her voice reduced to muffled, frustrated sounds.
Fear flared in her chest, but she forced herself to take slow, shallow breaths. She remembered the scene before she blacked out; she knew Oliver had been planning this for a long time. He was playing the same dangerous game he had played with her parents, and she was now firmly behind the eight ball.
She closed her eyes, forcing her racing heart to slow down. She needed her wits if she was going to find a way out of this.
Suddenly, the heavy oak door creaked open. Mila turned her head toward the sound.
Oliver walked in, the picture of calculated elegance in a crisp white shirt and gold-rimmed glasses. He looked down at her with a smug, satisfied expression, the facade of the "kind relative" finally stripped away to reveal the predator beneath.