Warm yellow light poured down from the crystal chandelier overhead.
Richard Braddock lounged on a luxurious leather sofa, gently swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand.
"Mr. Dean, my son Scott has already started getting close to that girl Patty."
Richard asked carefully, "But… is her body really worth the price we're paying?"
The old man called Dean looked up with a faint smile. "That's not something you need to worry about, Mr. Braddock."
"Our Armitage family specializes in cutting-edge neurotechnology and specialized psychological conditioning. We find the most perfect vessels for the world's most powerful people."
Dean took a slow sip of red wine, his voice calm and measured. "So some things… it's better for both of us if you don't ask too many questions."
Richard broke into a cold sweat. He was about to explain himself when his private phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket.
His face changed. He shot Dean an apologetic look. Only after the old man gave a small nod did he answer.
A few seconds later Richard shot up from the sofa. "What?! Say that again?!"
"Mr. Braddock, please stay calm. Young Master Scott was involved in a serious accident on East 9 Highway. We've only found wreckage and three bodies at the scene…"
The sheriff's voice was cautious—he knew exactly who he was talking to.
"As for your son Scott… he's missing."
Richard swayed. The phone nearly slipped from his fingers.
In his world, "missing" on that highway almost always meant dead. They just hadn't found the body yet.
If this was a kidnapping, the ransom call would've come long before the cops.
"Have you identified who did it? What about his classmates?" Richard growled, barely containing his rage.
Scott was his chosen heir. Now the police were telling him his only son had vanished on some backroad?
"Mr. Braddock, you have to understand our situation. That stretch of highway has no traffic cameras. Hell, there's barely any cell service out there."
"Plus the crash site is on the state line—jurisdictional nightmare. Our department's budget won't cover a full-scale search right now…"
"Bullshit! Bunch of useless bastards!"
Richard's veins bulged on his forehead.
These same officials were always happy to take his money at fundraisers and galas.
Now that his son was gone, they were hiding behind jurisdiction and budget excuses.
The sheriff quickly added, "But we're not completely empty-handed."
"The only survivor we've identified is a girl named Patty Lowell. She was recently spotted in Poho County with an unidentified Asian male."
"Find them. I want every detail."
Richard hung up without another word.
Since he couldn't rely on these spineless bureaucrats, he had plenty of cash to hire real professionals from the underground to track those two down.
…
"Hey, handsome. You always this quiet on road trips?"
A spacious, comfortable minivan cruised along a winding mountain road.
The interior was thick with competing designer perfumes.
Whitney leaned forward, her loose camisole doing almost nothing to contain her generous curves, giving Soren a deep, unobstructed view.
"Or are you just not into artsy bad girls like us?"
Soren lounged back in the luxury seat, looking perfectly relaxed.
Through casual conversation during the drive, he had already pieced together everyone's background.
Besides the stunning blonde Axelina sitting in the back, the other three were art students from the same university.
They were on spring break, looking for inspiration and a good time.
Axelina was a professional model the school hired for figure drawing classes. She was the one who had suggested visiting this little town.
The one currently making moves on Soren was Whitney—the most outgoing of the three students—sitting directly across from him.
Getting bolder, Whitney kicked off her high heels, crossed her smooth, toned legs, and let her black-painted toes brush teasingly against Soren's pant leg.
Soren remained calm. He casually shifted his leg away and smiled politely. "Sorry. I'm more interested in how to make money."
Whitney wasn't discouraged by his indifference. If anything, his cool attitude made him more of a challenge.
She giggled, then pointed at the quiet girl reading beside her. "Fine. If you're not into my type, maybe you'd prefer Beth."
Beth looked up from her book with a helpless expression.
Whitney ignored her and leaned closer to Soren, voice dramatic. "Beth's actually loaded. We're talking 'buy a couple private islands for your backyard' rich."
"Land her and you'll never have to worry about money again."
Beth frowned slightly. She usually kept a low profile. Casually dropping her family background to a guy they'd just met on a remote road made her uncomfortable.
But Whitney had always been like this—zero filter around strangers.
"Buying private islands? Sounds like a very tasteful investment," Soren said, his attitude toward Beth warming noticeably.
He smoothly pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it over. "Formal introductions."
"Soren. Private investigator by trade. Also handle high-end security and… unconventional problems. Beth, if you ever run into anything unusual, feel free to call me anytime."
Beth was caught off guard by the sudden professional charm. She accepted the card hesitantly.
"Devil May Cry," she read. She didn't recognize the name.
She gave a polite smile. "Thank you. I'll keep it in mind."
From the very back, Axelina watched Soren's reaction with a faint, cold smirk in her eyes.
Patty, sitting right next to Soren, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Bunch of brainless bimbos," she muttered under her breath.
"Guys, I think we're here."
Up front, the buck-toothed driver Lorna suddenly called out, breaking the tension.
Through the windshield, an ancient cluster of buildings emerged from the mountains ahead.