"Is the information accurate?" Stephan wondered. Their previous searches, spanning three or four locations, had yielded nothing. Despite repeated assurances of accuracy, they hadn't found a trace of Felicia.
Stephan fixed his gaze on his subordinate. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and cold.
"Absolutely!" The subordinate nodded vigorously. "This is a college-organized training program. Ms. Fuller is registered; she can't escape."
"Very well. Let's proceed."
Switching from the private jet to a helicopter, Stephan's subordinate checked his phone. "Mr. Russell," he reported respectfully, "Ms. Dawson wishes to meet you."
The mention of Abbie silenced everyone. They watched Stephan intently, anticipating his reaction. His demeanor instantly darkened, a chilling aura enveloping him.
After that night at the hotel, he had compensated her generously. At her request, he had propelled Abbie from obscurity to A-list stardom. He secured her desired roles, connections, awards, and publicity. A massive marketing campaign, fueled by considerable resources, quickly catapulted her to prominence, garnering a devoted following and widespread attention. Her upcoming projects would solidify her A-list status. It was his way of atoning for the night he lost control.
Settling into the helicopter, Stephan said impatiently, "Tell her to contact you. Handle everything. I'm not involved." He had no intention of meeting her. Since that night, all communication and requests had been handled by his subordinates.
"Mr. Russell," the subordinate replied awkwardly, "Ms. Dawson is currently in Khogend and has no other requests. She simply wishes to meet you…"
Stephan glared, his voice icy. "Do you understand me?"
"My apologies, Mr. Russell. I'll refuse her immediately." The subordinate quickly composed a cold, impersonal reply: "Mr. Russell refuses to meet you."
The chat box displayed "Typing…" for an extended period, revealing Abbie's hesitation and confusion. Her request had been a tentative probe.
The subordinate remained silent, pocketing his phone. The helicopter lifted off, heading toward Alverton.
Three and a half hours later, they reached Alverton. The helicopter circled twice, searching for a landing site. Nightfall provided concealment, and their distance from the village minimized noise.
Stephan disembarked, his long legs carrying him forward. The village's small size facilitated the search—assuming Felicia hadn't fled. A dangerous glint shone in his eyes as he chuckled softly.
His subordinate led the way. "Mr. Russell, I've reviewed Ms. Fuller's background. She lived here until age nine and has a close relative, Macey. Let's begin at Macey's house."
It was 4:30 AM; dawn approached.
Ten minutes later, they stood before Macey's house. A flimsy bamboo fence offered little protection. Like many rural homes, Macey kept a dog—a young, well-fed animal with a surprisingly keen sense of duty. At the sight of strangers, it barked furiously.