What was Johanna doing here? The moment Imogen recognized Johanna, her expression darkened. Disgust surged within her, and her instincts screamed that Johanna's presence boded trouble. The nearby guards, needing no order, already ran toward Johanna.
This was the Russell family's private airstrip, situated behind the residence. Surrounded by electrified fences, monitored by cameras, and patrolled 24/7, its tight security should have prevented any outsider's entry. Even if Johanna were familiar with the layout and potential weaknesses—having lived there for a while—she remained outside the perimeter fence. She had used a mirror to reflect sunlight, attracting their attention. But what was her goal?
When the guards approached, Johanna smiled faintly, dropped the mirror, and mouthed something. Before they could climb the fence, she vanished into the woods. Moments later, a motorcycle roared. By the time the guards gave chase, Johanna was speeding away on the back of a motorcycle.
"Ms. Russell, we couldn't catch her, but we retrieved this mirror," one guard reported. Imogen hesitated, but her gaze was drawn to the mirror. A name, written in blood—Caleb—met her eyes. Her child. The blood-red writing was harsh and deliberate, a menacing threat radiating palpable malice.
Imogen's heart pounded; her eyelid twitched. Without hesitation, she ran back toward the house. Felicia and Scarlet, about to board the plane, paused. "Let's go back and check it out," Felicia said. Johanna's appearance was no coincidence; the bloody message held a hidden meaning. A delay wouldn't significantly impact their return to Khogend.
Back at the villa, Caleb's heart-wrenching cries filled the air. The baby wailed uncontrollably, his only means of expressing discomfort. Nannies and housekeepers anxiously tried to soothe him, but to no avail. Caleb continued to cry, his tiny body writhing in distress.
Imogen hurried forward, taking Caleb from a nanny. She cradled him, gently rocking him. "Shh... Don't cry, darling. Mommy's here." His cries faltered briefly, then returned with greater intensity. The one-month-old cried so hard his face turned red, his throat hoarse. "What's going on? He was fine before, wasn't he?" Imogen's voice cracked, sharp and barely audible. Tears streamed down his face. "What happened?"
A housekeeper stammered, "M-Ms. Russell, we didn't do anything! Everything was usual. Mr. Caleb was napping, but suddenly he started kicking and crying. Maybe we should call a doctor?"
The Russell family had an on-call doctor. Though panicking and angry, Imogen retained a sliver of rationality—or perhaps, she dared not lose control entirely. She immediately carried Caleb to Felicia.