“We haven’t been able to identify your wife,” the forensics technician said, frowning at his screen. “For some reason, the system just flagged a warning. The original data has been corrupted–we can’t perform facial recognition.”
“Mr. Simmons, do you have any recent photos of your wife?”
“Yes!”
Eddy immediately sent every photo of Blanche on his phone–solo shots, family pictures, candid moments–everything, flooding the technician’s inbox.
The technician uploaded them into the recognition system. Not two seconds later, the computer started beeping again, shrill and insistent.
[DATA CORRUPTED. UNABLE TO IDENTIFY.]
The message flashed again and again across the monitor.
“What’s going on?” Eddy demanded.
“Mr. Simmons, there’s a massive cyberattack targeting any image of your wife,” the technician explained, voice tense. “We need to coordinate with the Cyber Security Bureau. Right now, facial recognition is impossible. But before the attack, we managed to scan half the area. West of the intersection, there’s no sign of your wife. East of there, we’ll need to search on foot.”
“Mobilize everyone. Lock down the entire Eastborough District. Search every street, every alley,” Eddy ordered briskly, striding out of the police station. He turned to his head of security. “Alert the press. I want everyone looking for my wife. There’s a huge reward for whoever finds her.”
Reporters who’d been staking out the Summit Grand Hotel–ready to livestream the Simmons–Anderson engagement party and the Simmons heir’s birthday–rushed to the scene as soon as the news broke.
Within moments, the grand ballroom was deserted.
Journalists turned to their cameras, broadcasting live.
“Folks at home…
“Dear listeners….
“Everyone watching on TV…”
“Whoever finds Mrs. Simmons and brings her safely back to the Summit Grand
Chapter 152
Hotel ballroom will receive a reward of two million dollars!”
“Anyone providing a legitimate lead will get two hundred thousand.”
The livestream chat exploded. All of Novandria seemed to mobilize at once, everyone scouring Eastborough District for any sign of Blanche.
After all, the last time Blanche disappeared, Eddy had kept his word: even though no one actually found her, he’d given every search volunteer a hundred thousand dollars each. And as a bonus, handed out twenty million in shopping vouchers citywide. When Eddy Simmons promised, he delivered.
Thirty minutes passed. Nearly twenty million people across Novandria converged on Eastborough District, but not a single person found Blanche.
Worse, the tip lines stayed silent–no prank calls, no false leads.
It was like Blanche had vanished off the face of the earth.
Suddenly, Eddy remembered what Blanche had said at Sheila’s grave.
She’d looked so pale, her expression clouded with grief.
“Did you do something you’re ashamed of? Are you afraid I’ll find out and leave you?”
“If you betray me, I will walk away.”
“But…I trust you.”
No–she trusted him then.
“Take us to the cemetery,” Eddy ordered.
If Blanche was truly upset with him, she’d go to the cemetery and pour her heart out
-to Sheila.
With security clearing the way, the Rolls–Royce sped down the highway. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the cemetery.
“Has my wife been here?” Eddy asked the caretaker urgently.
“Mr. Simmons, I haven’t seen her,” the caretaker stammered, glancing away. “But–Ms. Harvey’s ashes are missing.”
Eddy’s voice turned cold. “When did they disappear?”
“Yesterday, after you visited Ms. Harvey’s grave. We moved the urn out for cleaning, but when we went to put it back…the ashes were gone.”
“Did you check the security cameras?”
“I–I don’t know how, but during that window, someone had moved the cameras. There’s no footage of the urn at all,” the caretaker said, shamefaced.
His wife was missing. Now his mother–in–law’s ashes were gone, too.
A hollow ache spread through Eddy’s chest. Everything was spinning out of his control.
“Sir, we’ve searched everywhere in Eastborough District except for the Summit Grand Hotel and the city hall,” the head bodyguard reported. “There’s no sign of Mrs. Simmons.
Eddy’s eyes darkened.
Just then, his phone rang.
Healy’s voice burst out, plaintive and impatient. “Dad, when are you and Mom coming? You promised you’d be here for my birthday!”
