Chapter 198

Cynthia urgently whispered to Jonathan, "Are you done? Someone's coming." Jonathan, deeply engrossed, frowned. "Three minutes! I need three more minutes!"

Cynthia intently watched a figure in the distance. Fortunately, the corridor was long. The footsteps were still far away. A minute passed. Cynthia could now clearly see the approaching person.

"It's the butler," she hissed. "He's one of Whitney's people. He's been stirring up trouble. If he finds us, everything is lost."

A sliver of hope flickered in Cynthia's mind. Maybe he's not going to the study, she thought. About thirty meters from the study, a nanny ascended the stairs and encountered the butler.

"Mr. Corson, where are you going?" the nanny asked.

"I'm going to the study to get an antique record. Ms. Bennett wants it," Shayne (the butler) replied.

"Let me get it for you," offered the nanny.

"No need, I'll get it myself," Shayne insisted.

Cynthia's heart leaped. What luck! He was going to the study. "Only thirty meters to go," she urged Jonathan.

Cynthia had already closed the study door. From the outside, there was no indication anyone was inside. She looked around; the study offered no hiding places. Under the desk was empty. Three walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The only other furniture was an antique reading sofa. There was nowhere to hide once the butler entered.

And it was too late. The door was closed. They were trapped.

Meanwhile, Jonathan finished hacking into the network, sent an email to Claude, erased all traces of his activity, and shut down the computer.

"Let's go," Jonathan said, standing up.

Cynthia was frantic. "The butler must be almost here! How are we getting out?"

Jonathan looked at the one wall without bookshelves—a wall covered by thick curtains concealing a classic-style window, relatively easy to open. He quickly climbed onto the windowsill and jumped. Cynthia gasped and rushed to the window.

It was a three-story drop, and the castle's structure amplified the fall; it felt like six stories. How did he do that? she wondered.

By the time she leaned out, Jonathan had already landed, agile as a black panther, unharmed. Cynthia was stunned.

Her first reaction was betrayal. With Jonathan's skills, he must be a top-tier operative, rivaling special forces. Yet, for years, he'd acted so delicate around her, like a pampered boy who couldn't lift a sack of potatoes.

Cynthia's brow furrowed. He hid his true self so well. What else is he keeping from me?

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In the next second, Jonathan spread his arms towards Cynthia. "Jump! I'll catch you."

The butler's unlocking the door was audible. Cynthia had no choice but to quickly climb out the window. She pulled down the curtain, concealing the open window before closing it again.

Looking down, she felt a surge of fear. She was agile and practiced boxing, but she'd never jumped from this height before. Isn't this like jumping off a building? she thought.

Jonathan silently mouthed, "Trust me!"

Seeing him, her fear vanished. Without hesitation, Cynthia jumped.

Initially, she felt weightless, like a butterfly. But as she neared the ground, fear returned. She wasn't afraid of falling; she was afraid of hurting Jonathan as he tried to catch her.

Her fears were unfounded. Cynthia landed safely in his arms. At the last moment, he'd expertly wrapped his arms around her waist. The momentum spun them in a brief, exhilarating waltz before they came to a stop.

Cynthia's cheek rested against his chest. She heard his heartbeat—steady and strong, yet faster than usual. He was nervous too. He held her tightly, as if trying to merge their bodies. If only we could stay like this, she thought.

Reality snapped her back. "We need to leave; we'll be seen."

Jonathan released her, only to immediately cup her face and kiss her passionately before pulling away. "Let's go."

The kiss was quickly forgotten in the relief of survival. She allowed him to take her hand as they left the garden.

They soon reached a busier area. Preston, leaning against a coconut tree, was catching his breath, muttering curses under his breath—the result of a brown bear chase that nearly broke a world record.

Ethan, strolling on the beach, approached with a grin. A drone buzzed overhead.

Jonathan turned to Cynthia. "Stay close to Preston."

Cynthia nodded. "And you stay in my sight."

Jonathan smiled. "Silly, don't worry about me." They walked away.

(The remaining sections need similar editing for grammar, punctuation, and flow. Please submit them separately if you'd like further assistance.)