His expression turned thunderous, rage simmering just beneath the surface. “He took what’s mine?” Ernest muttered, voice low and seething. “Quentin!” His tone snapped like a whip. “Track him down. I don’t care how—find him. Elissa and Locke are with him. Bring them back.”

The final words came out clipped, laced with fury and menace.

“Yes, sir!” Quentin answered without hesitation.

Not long after, Quentin returned with fresh intel. “Mr. Flynn, we’ve just confirmed—Miss Holland boarded a flight with Locke. Destination: Ontmond.” Ernest’s eyes narrowed instantly. Ontmond. That was where Savannah lived.

It clicked.

Elissa was likely heading straight to her mother.

“What time did they depart?” he asked sharply.

“Six this morning,” Quentin replied.

It was already ten. Four hours had passed—

Elissa and Locke were now tens of thousands of feet in the air, well beyond his immediate reach.

“And Robin?” Ernest pressed.

“He’s still in Tidebourne. Our people have eyes on him,” Quentin answered.

Ernest fell into a brooding silence.

So Robin wasn’t with them—but that didn’t absolve him.

“Should we still bring him in?” Quentin asked cautiously.

“Absolutely,” Ernest said coldly. “He’s involved—there’s no doubt.”

He stared out the window, his jaw tight. Robin could’ve staged it perfectly—send Elissa and Locke ahead as a distraction, lie low in Tidebourne, and follow later once the coast was clear.

It was a clever move to ensure no one suspected his involvement. For that, Ernest wasn’t about to underestimate him.

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“Yes.” Quentin nodded, but a flicker of doubt remained on his face. “Sir… are we sure Robin has that kind of reach?”

At that, Ernest turned, his frown deepening.

Indeed, spiriting Elissa and Locke out of Lion Bay without leaving the faintest trail wasn’t something just anyone could pull off.

But if not Robin, then who? Ernest’s jaw clenched. The silence between his breaths pulsed with frustration. No other suspect made sense.

“We’ll get the truth out of him once we have him,” Ernest said, his voice steely and low. “I want to know exactly how he pulled it off.”

Quentin nodded firmly. “Understood, sir.”

As night draped itself over Lion Bay, Hadley wrapped up her work and rushed to the estate.

At the entrance, she found Eric arriving at the same time.

“Let’s go,” Eric said, gently taking her hand and leading her in.

Inside, Ernest sat on the sofa, his posture unusually slack, a quiet storm brewing in his expression. He glanced up at them and gestured toward the seats. “You’re here,” he murmured, offering a nod. “Sit.”

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