Yvette glanced at the screen, tapped to answer, and heard Bonnie's familiar voice. "Yve, Bonnie called," the clear voice rang out in Yvette's car.

Yvette replied with a simple "Hmm," lifting her eyelids and pursing her lips. A moment of silence followed. Holding the phone, she adjusted her cap and softly asked, "What's going on?"

Bonnie took a deep breath. "Yve, you need to come back quickly. Mr. Chambers is in trouble; he's in the ICU at Seacrity Hospital."

Yvette's face hardened, her dark eyes unreadable, radiating a chilling intensity. Bruce and Sienna, in the car, shivered.

Yvette's voice, calm yet cold, said, "Got it."

After hanging up, she clenched the phone, her expression unchanged. She lifted her head, the corners of her eyes shimmering, a hint of red in their depths. Her voice was faint. "Stop the car."

Bruce's hands moved instantly. He braked and pulled over.

Sienna nervously asked, "What's wrong, Yve?"

Yvette's dark eyes were deep and cold. Getting out of the car, she opened the driver's side door. "We're heading back. You two get out; I'm going to the airport."

Sienna unbuckled her seatbelt and rushed out, sensing the urgency. Bruce looked at Yvette, eerily calm.

"Yve, Mr. Chavez has a private jet at Mysonna Airport. I'll go with you; we can fly back immediately," Bruce offered.

Yvette nodded. "Okay."

Yvette got into the driver's seat, her eyes narrowed, her eyebrow raised, one hand gripping the wheel. She looked at Bruce. "Sit tight."

Bruce fastened his seatbelt, wondering just how fast she could drive. Yvette skillfully shifted gears. The car shot forward, leaving only a trail of exhaust.

Half an hour later, a flashy Maserati arrived at the airport. Yvette, her long legs moving confidently, stepped out first, her face expressionless as she glanced at the passenger seat. Bruce followed, his legs somewhat shaky. She had chosen the shortest, most dangerous route, forcing Bruce to grip the car's safety handle the entire way. He watched her navigate numerous turns, each time narrowly avoiding the cliff's edge. Her expression remained unchanged. He was impressed. Some people are just beyond ordinary. She's incredibly unbeatable, he thought.

Bruce handled the formalities, seeing Yvette onto the plane. Watching the private jet take off, he decided to call Jeremiah. The call was quickly answered.

"Mr. Chavez," Bruce said respectfully, "Yvette decided to return. She's already on your private jet and just took off. Something big is happening."

Jeremiah, standing on the training grounds, glanced at the recruits. His gaze was intense. His voice was cold. "I understand."

"Mr. Chavez," Bruce continued, "it seems Yvette knows someone from the Goodman family. Should we involve the intel team?"

Jeremiah slipped a hand into his pocket, his expression unchanged, a slight frown creasing his brow. "No need," he said.

Bruce paused. "Got it."

Jeremiah's trust in Yvette needed no reassurance. He hung up, picked up a megaphone, and called out to the soldiers, "Second person in the third row, carry an extra load for twenty kilometers."

The soldier, breaking into a sweat, realized he'd been observed.

Meanwhile, in Seacrity, Andrew, a librarian, was sorting through essay collections when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, stunned into silence. It was Jeremiah.

"Wrong number?" Andrew wondered, answering quickly. "Hello, Mr. Chavez, did you dial the wrong number? This is Andrew, not Yvette." A pang of bitterness followed. After knowing Mr. Chavez for so many years, who would've thought he'd be so different now? My position has plummeted, he thought.

Jeremiah squinted. "No mistake. I was looking for you."

Andrew was overjoyed. Oh my! Has Mr. Chavez finally rediscovered his humanity? he thought. "Mr. Chavez, you finally remembered me! I've been stuck in Seacrity for so long, I'm growing moss here!"

Jeremiah paused. "Did something happen to the Chambers family?"

Andrew froze. He hadn't been involved in their affairs since Yvette left. "Mr. Chavez, I'm not sure. Give me a bit of time, I'll check."

He contacted a contact in Seacrity. Within five minutes, he learned Zachary had been in a car accident that morning and was at Seacrity Hospital. He immediately called Jeremiah back.

"Mr. Chavez," Andrew said seriously, "trouble with the Chambers family. Yve's dad was in a car accident this morning and is now at Seacrity Hospital. His injuries are serious. The hospital can't perform the required surgery; they've only done emergency procedures, and he's in the ICU. There are signs of sabotage. The brakes failed, and the car crashed into a truck. If the driver hadn't reacted quickly, Zachary might not have made it."

Jeremiah tightened his grip on the phone, his dark eyes stormy. His voice was icy. "Where is the truck driver?"

Andrew answered cautiously. "He's been held at the police station. With Zachary's life uncertain, they have no choice."

Jeremiah said, "Go to the police station. Don't let anyone near him."

Andrew ended the call and called Wyatt. It'd be better for Wyatt to be involved, he thought.

Jeremiah put away the phone, his eyes downcast, the air chilling. Who else would dare make a move against Zachary? he thought.

At Seacrity Hospital, Lucas paced anxiously. He'd narrowly avoided being with Zachary that day. The operating room light went off. He hurried over. "Dr. Anderson, how is Mr. Chambers?"

Harold Anderson, the vice president and lead surgeon, removed his mask after five hours of surgery. He'd stabilized Zachary's vital signs, but he was still on the brink of death. This was the limit of his abilities.