Chapter 734 A Hidden Trail

She once thought Margaret truly cared for her. Looking back now, she realized Margaret never held her that close to heart—certainly not enough to risk offending others on her behalf.

This time, Yunice wondered again. Would anyone come for her without hesitation?

At the Crawford family estate, two rows of sofas were lined with people, some seated, some standing, all with furrowed brows.

Freya leaned against an armrest, her waist and hips curving gracefully. A nearly burned-out cigarette hung between her fingers. She frowned and glanced back at those on the sofa. “Crawford Corp, Cooper Corp, Ford Corp—we’ve joined forces to search, and still found nothing. What, have they hidden in the deep mountains?”

Victor, seated on the sofa, lifted his head toward Wyatt, who stood across from him. “Don’t you have some special way of contacting Yunice?”

He did, but not one he could use now.

“Margaret must have set up a signal jammer,” Wyatt replied.

Victor froze, then snapped his head up. “I knew it!”

You really did plant a tracker on Yunice.

Wyatt shot him a glance, as if mocking his alarm.

But Yunice’s signal had gone dead, and that was making the rescue far more difficult.

Wyatt’s mind turned to another problem. “How does Margaret expect to be certain Paul will make it safely out of the country?”

“Margaret is calm and steady,” someone answered. “She’ll want to confirm with her own eyes that nothing can go wrong.”

“But she wouldn’t dare show herself. If she did, she’d be caught. So she hid, leaving not even a way to reach her.”

Wyatt said, “That means she’s counting on us to figure out how to contact her.”

The room sank into thought. How could they do that?

Wyatt’s gaze shifted toward the television in the living room. The others followed his line of sight.

The TV?

Victor spoke up. “She wants us to broadcast the news that Paul left the country safely. But if we report it publicly, Paul would have to be whitewashed and officially sent abroad.”

Wyatt’s voice was cold. “Greedy, isn’t she.”

Laurie added softly, “She dares demand this because she’s sure you’ll compromise.”

Wyatt realized, belatedly, that it had been Margaret who had pulled Yunice from the Saunders family, Margaret who had supported Yunice and Paul’s broken engagement.

She had even gone out of her way to create encounters between him and Yunice. Now he saw it clearly: she had been laying the groundwork for her son all along, preparing for this very day.

Victor muttered angrily, “We can’t possibly meet Margaret’s demands.”

Paul was already dead. How could he appear publicly, washed clean, and let Margaret see him on the evening news from some shabby rented room?

But if they dragged it out too long, once Margaret’s patience ran dry…

Wyatt turned and left. Victor opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again.

Everyone was anxious, but no one had a solution.

Night fell.

Wyatt drove through the city aimlessly. He followed whatever road appeared before him, without direction, without stopping.

He was deep in thought.

Six years ago, he had lost Yunice once. This time, he could not let it happen again.

Yunice was waiting for someone to save her. They had to give her hope, let her know there were people who cared for her, people who worried for her.

Wyatt looked out at the towering skyscrapers, the endless lights of the city. Could Yunice be hidden in one of these countless rooms?

It was easy to hide a person. To find one trace among millions was harder than reaching the heavens.

Yunice had already been gone for twelve hours. Time was running short.

A thought struck him. He pulled the car over and slipped a hand into his shirt pocket.

He drew out a school badge. His fingertips brushed across Yunice’s name etched on it. A new idea formed.

Yunice was clever. She would never sit idly by waiting to be rescued. She would leave clues. She would make her own preparations.

Wyatt frowned, his gaze fixed on the badge. Was it possible that along the way, Yunice had tossed small items as markers?

Immediately, he pulled out his phone and opened a photo. It was the group picture taken earlier that day at the hospital’s reopening ceremony.

Wyatt zoomed in on Yunice alone, then magnified each accessory she wore, clipping screenshots of them one by one. Finally, he sent them to Jordan.

“Mobilize the whole city to sift through garbage plants. Look for these items. The moment you find one, report back to me.”

Jordan studied the images; shirt buttons, a pearl, a hair clip. Small things, common things. Sorting them would be extremely difficult.

Wyatt said, “Raise the reward. Don’t let a single detail slip.”

Two hours later, evidence bags began to pile into the room. Each one contained the tiny objects scavenged from the city’s garbage plants.