Chapter 144: The Morning After

The following morning, Morgan stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, his phone pressed against his ear as he waited for Jack’s report.

Below, the city carried on as though nothing had happened.

"Report."

"Boss," Jack began, his voice grim, "one of the kidnappers finally broke during interrogation."

Morgan’s expression hardened.

"What did he say?"

"He admitted they belong to a notorious syndicate known as the Brotherhood. They specialize in kidnapping children of wealthy businessmen for ransom."

Morgan’s eyes narrowed.

"So this wasn’t random."

"No. They were hired to take her, to teach her a lesson."

"Hired by whom?"

"A woman."

Silence settled between them.

Morgan’s grip tightened around his phone.

His mind flashed back to audio feed provided by Isobel’s smart watch.

"Was it Charlotte who sent you?"

At the time, he’d dismissed it as Isobel’s desperate guess, spoken out of fear.

Now, it no longer seemed impossible.

"Do we know who she is?"

"No. Not yet," Jack admitted. "Whoever planned this covered her tracks well. There was no digital trail, no bank transfers. Everything appears to have been paid in cash."

Morgan’s gaze turned cold.

"Then keep digging."

"I’ve already expanded the investigation."

"Good."

Jack continued, "We’re compiling a list of everyone who interacted with Miss Lancey before the kidnapping."

Morgan considered it for a moment before adding,

"Include Charlotte Harris."

Jack fell silent.

"...Miss Charlotte?"

"Is there a problem?" Morgan seemed annoyed.

"Mr. Kristoff Dalton is engaged to her."

"I know. All the more that she is a suspect."

"But if he learns we’re investigating her—"

"I don’t care."

Morgan’s voice was calm, but it carried an unmistakable edge.

"If I find out that she is behind this, then even Kristoff could not save her."

He paused.

"But I’m not accusing her nor clearing her either."

"If she’s innocent, the investigation will prove it. If she isn’t..."

He left the sentence unfinished.

Jack understood.

"I’ll make sure she doesn’t realize she’s being investigated."

"See that you do."

Morgan ended the call and remained where he stood.

The image of Isobel clinging to Kristoff’s back as he leaped from the second floor surfaced in his mind, followed by the terror on her face inside the warehouse.

His jaw tightened.

Whether Charlotte was involved or not, one thing was certain.

Someone had planned to harm Isobel. He wouldn’t let them get a second chance.

Less than an hour later, Morgan arrived at the hospital.

He knocked softly before entering Isobel’s room.

She was sitting by the window, the morning sunlight spilling across her face. A tray of breakfast rested untouched on the table beside her.

The doctor had insisted that she stay the night to make sure that there were no other complications.

"You haven’t eaten."

Isobel looked up and managed a faint smile.

"I’m not hungry."

"The doctor said you need to regain your strength."

"I know."

Her reply was quiet.

Morgan pulled a chair beside her bed and sat down. Only then did he notice the emptiness in her eyes.

The bruises on her body would heal. It was the wounds no one could see that worried him.

After a long silence, Isobel finally spoke.

"I’m sorry."

Morgan looked at her.

"For what?"

"For causing you so much trouble."

She lowered her head, unable to meet his eyes.

"You had to risk your life to save me."

Morgan was silent for a moment before answering.

"You don’t have to apologize."

His voice was gentler than usual.

"You’re my sister."

He reached over and lightly patted her head, a gesture he rarely showed anyone.

"Protecting you isn’t a burden. It’s my responsibility."

At those words, Isobel felt the sting behind her eyes.

For the first time since the kidnapping, she allowed herself to believe she wasn’t facing it alone.

...

Meanwhile, Richard finally learned that Isobel was admitted in Hope Hospital.

He spent the entire night trying to reach her. Every call had gone unanswered, eventually ending with the same automated message directing him to her voicemail.

Unable to concentrate at work, he made a detour to the hospital during the morning break.

A bouquet of fresh flowers rested in one hand, while the other carried a bag of takeout from Isobel’s favorite restaurant.

He knocked lightly before entering her room.

The moment he saw her sitting up in bed, the knot in his chest loosened.

"Bel..."

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding before walking over to her.

"Are you alright?"

His voice was gentle, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

Isobel smiled apologetically.

"I’m fine, Richie."

Richard studied her for a moment, taking in the faint bruises on her arms and the exhaustion she couldn’t quite hide.

"You don’t look fine," he muttered.

Setting the flowers on the bedside table, he handed her the bag of takeout.

"I brought your favorite."

The familiar aroma drifted through the room.

"You haven’t had snacks yet, have you?"

Isobel shook her head.

"Not yet."

Richard opened the container and placed it on the overbed table in front of her.

"Then eat," he said, his tone leaving little room for argument. "You can tell me everything afterward."

Despite herself, Isobel let out a small laugh.

"You’re still as bossy as ever."

"And you’re still terrible at taking care of yourself."

...

Meanwhile, Kristoff lay against the headboard, his gaze drifting to the door every few moments.

Each time footsteps echoed in the corridor, his heart stirred with quiet anticipation.

Was it Isobel?

The hope flickered to life again and again, only to be extinguished as the footsteps passed his room.

He exhaled heavily and leaned back against his pillow.

Charlotte’s departure had finally brought a welcome silence to the room.

Only then did he realize how tense he had been throughout her visit.

In the past, he had always found comfort in her company. Her gentle smile and soft voice had a way of putting him at ease.

Now...

Every word she spoke felt forced.

Every gesture seemed rehearsed.

Her constant questions and doting attention, which he had once found endearing, had become strangely suffocating.

He couldn’t explain why.

Perhaps it was because Isobel’s desperate accusation had planted a seed of doubt he could no longer ignore.

Or perhaps...

Charlotte hadn’t changed at all.

He had.

The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

His eyes wandered back to the door.

Despite telling himself not to expect anything, a small part of him still hoped it would open...

And that the person walking in would be Isobel.