Yet, after four full days had passed, the distinction between missing and deceased had become practically meaningless.

Ernest, worn down by exhaustion and crushing pressure, directed his assistant with urgency. “Establish contact with the local rescue operations immediately. Have you managed to reach Black Water yet?”

The local rescue teams carried too many competing responsibilities, which left Ernest feeling deeply unsettled. For this reason, before departing, he had instructed Quentin to establish communication with professionals from Black Water, confident that substantial compensation would guarantee their complete dedication to the search.

“Absolutely.” His assistant confirmed with a firm nod. “Mr. Miles successfully made contact with them. The initial payment has been transferred, and their team is already on location conducting operations.”

“Excellent news,” Ernest acknowledged with visible relief.

Standing before the twisted wreckage with the boundless horizon stretching where ocean kissed sky, he made a solemn promise to himself that he would locate Elissa and Locke and deliver them safely home.

However, two weeks dragged by without yielding any trace of Elissa and Locke, their fate remaining shrouded in mystery.

During one particular dawn, while Ernest stood before his mirror drawing a razor across his jaw, someone rapped against his door.

“Enter,” he called out, but his concentration wavered and the blade sliced into his skin.

“Blast it.” Ernest’s features twisted with irritation as he rinsed the wound and pressed tissue against the bleeding cut.

His assistant stepped through the doorway carrying breakfast, which he arranged carefully on the nearby table.

Ernest finished cleaning the injury and emerged from the washroom, settling into his chair and lifting the steaming black coffee to his lips.

The assistant observed his boss closely, recognizing that in these mere two weeks, Ernest had shed considerable weight from his frame.

While the assistant felt merely fatigued, Ernest had barely managed any sleep throughout the entire fortnight. His appearance was now gaunt and weathered. After consuming only a few swallows of coffee, Ernest pushed himself upright, prompting his assistant to swiftly retrieve his coat and drape it across his shoulders.

Meanwhile, the assistant offered a gentle suggestion. “Mr. Flynn, you really should eat something substantial.”

“Absolutely not.” Ernest declined with a sharp shake of his head. “Food holds no appeal for me at this moment. We need to visit the rescue team instead.” His stomach simply couldn’t accept nourishment while knowing that Elissa and Locke remained trapped somewhere in unimaginable suffering.

“Very well.” The assistant released a defeated sigh, recognizing the futility of further argument.

Upon reaching the rescue team’s headquarters, they discovered a chaotic mob assembled near the entrance, their voices raised in heated agitation. Ernest’s brow furrowed as he demanded, “What situation are we witnessing here?”

“I’ll investigate immediately!” The assistant rushed forward, weaving through the dense crowd to inquire, “Excuse me, what’s going on here?”

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Message from Noah: Hope you enjoyed the chapters dear ones, God loves you, and Noah wishes you all the best. (? ? )?

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