Chapter 322

"Evelyn, your little game is becoming quite transparent."

Rosalind dialed Evelyn's number repeatedly, but each attempt went unanswered. On her third try, the line went dead without ringing.

A cold dread crept down Rosalind's spine as she sprinted downstairs. "When did Ms. Wright leave?" she demanded from the maid.

"Before dawn, around seven," came the reply.

Rosalind's fingers trembled as she paced the marble floors of Wright Manor. She quickly dialed Liam's private number.

The general answered on the second ring, his voice clipped. "Report."

"Sir, has Cassandra arrived at Blackwood Manor?" Rosalind's voice shook.

Liam's tone turned razor-sharp. "Why would she be coming here?"

"She left hours ago to see you!" Rosalind's nails dug into her palm. "The staff said she departed at seven, but it's past eight now. She should have reached Sudvi by—"

"Find her." Liam's command sliced through the line like tempered steel. "Now."

Rosalind raced to the security office, her boots echoing through the corridollars. "Call me if she appears at your estate," she gasped before hanging up.

The surveillance footage revealed everything. At precisely 7:03 AM, Evelyn had dragged her suitcase past the east gate. The cameras captured her turning the corner toward the service road—then nothing.

Rosalind froze the image. "Whose vehicle is that?" She pointed to the black sedan idling near where Evelyn vanished.

"Mr. Whitmore's car, ma'am," the guard confirmed.

Rosalind's blood turned to ice. Julian. Of course it would be Julian.

Her hands shook violently as she redialed Liam. He answered before the first ring completed. "Status."

"General Blackwood...she's gone." Rosalind's voice cracked. "I believe Julian took her."

The silence on the line was more terrifying than any outburst. When Liam finally spoke, each word carried lethal precision. "You will locate her. Or I will hold you personally responsible."

Rosalind nearly dropped the phone. "Yes, sir. I'll search Wright Manor for clues."

Meanwhile, consciousness returned to Evelyn in painful waves. The first thing she registered was the oppressive scent of antiseptic. Then the restraints—thick leather straps securing her wrists and ankles to a medical bed.

Her muffled screams died against the gag. Memory flooded back: the needle prick in the alley, Julian's smiling face swimming in her vision before darkness claimed her.

She forced herself to breathe. Panic wouldn't help now. Julian had planned this meticulously—just as he'd orchestrated her parents' disappearance.

The door creaked open. Evelyn turned her head slowly.

Julian stood framed in the doorway, immaculate in his tailored white coat. Gold-rimmed glasses glinted as he adjusted them with a surgeon's precision. "Awake at last, my dear niece. We have so much to discuss."