Billionaire’s Ex-wife : Craving You

PRESENT TIME Two long and painful days have crawled by since my little girl disappeared, and the absence of any concrete developments.

is becoming an unbearable burden. Each passing moment ‘seems to stretch into eternity, leaving me increasingly on the precipice of losing my sanity. | often find myself standing in front of the mirror, reciting to myself like a desperate incantation that my beloved daughter is still out there, that she’s alive and will soon be reunited with me.

| staunchly refuse to relinquish the lifeline of hope, as it's the one thing | can grasp onto in this overwhelming darkness.

Splashing more water onto my face, | clung to the sink’s edge, releasing a heavy sigh that carried the weight of my relentless anxiety and heartache.

A soft, comforting knock on the bathroom door diverted my attention away from the bathroom sink. Ravel gently pushed the door open and entered the room. He watched me closely, his eyes reflecting the pain he tried so hard to conceal. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. | stared at him, my gaze unwavering, and he quickly averted his eyes,

realizing that it was an impractical question given the circumstances. “The detective is here to speak with us,” he informed me, trying to shift the focus.

I nodded in acknowledgment, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on my mind. “I'll be down shortly,” | assured him, my voice steadier than my heart felt.

Ravel approached me, his strong arms enveloping me in a tender hug, and he planted a gentle kiss on my temple. “All of this will come to an end soon,” he murmured softly, “and our daughter will grow up, leaving these painful memories behind.” I couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely down my cheeks. “Yes,” | replied, my voice quivering, “I believe she'll come back to us. We'll watch her grow, and one day, she won't remember any of this.” The hope in my words. served as a lifeline in the abyss of despair that had engulfed us.

Sniffling, Ravel buried his head in the crook of my neck, holding me close for a moment longer. “Let's not keep the detective waiting. Perhaps he has some good news,” he murmured before placing one last tender kiss on my temple. Reluctantly, he released me and exited the bathroom, heading downstairs.

| spent a final moment scrutinizing my reflection in the mirror, wiping away any lingering traces of tears. Then, | followed Ravel downstairs. As | entered the room, | found Ravel offering a glass of water to the detective.

The detective accepted the glass and swiftly drank its contents, returning it to the housekeeper. He began with a somber tone, understanding that what he had to say might not be what we were hoping for. “I know this isn't exactly what you both would like to hear, but I'll keep it brief.” Seated beside Ravel, | felt a mixture of tension and exhaustion.

My hands were crossed, and my unbrushed hair cascaded.

over my face, framing a picture of disarray that mirrored the chaos inside me. It was hard to recall the last time | had cared about such trivial concerns.

Desperation filled my voice as | asked, “Do you have any news about my daughter?” The detective met my eyes with empathy

and tried to offer reassurance. “Not yet, ma'am, but please know that we are committed to achieving a positive outcome.” With a heavy sigh, the detective continued, pulling out his notepad. “I spoke with Ms. June yesterday, and she vehemently denied any involvement in the kidnapping.” | couldn't help but offer a wry response. “Wouldn't such a denial be expected?” | quipped. Ravel, recognizing my frustration, wrapped his arm around me, offering me solace and support.

The detective, undeterred by my tone, proceeded with another question. “Can you tell me about your relationship with David?” A puzzled frown creased my forehead as | pondered the detective’s curious line of questioning regarding David. “David was my college mate, and over time, he became a dear friend and later a business partner. Why do you ask?” My confusion was mirrored by Ravel's increasingly inquisitive expression as he absently drummed his index finger on his knee.

The detective didn’t provide a direct answer to my query and instead posed another unusual question. “What is his relationship with Ms. June?” His persistent focus on this connection seemed peculiar.

“They have no relationship,” | replied firmly. “At least not one that I'm aware of.” | scrutinized the young detective intently. “I'll ask you again, why do you ask?” The detective divulged, “After my interview with her yesterday, she went directly to David's place without any detours.” His revelation sent a frown rippling across my features. “If there's no connection between them, then | believe we should bring him in for questioning as well.” The revelation about June's actions left me in a state of disbelief. | leaned forward, distancing myself from Ravel's comforting embrace, as the pieces of this bewildering puzzle began to form a disturbing picture. “Wait a minute,” | spoke, my voice laced with incredulity, “June has been meeting with David?" This situation was becoming increasingly complex, like ‘something out of a Hollywood drama. | turned to Ravel, seeking

clarity on the matter. “Have you noticed any unusual behavior from June?” Ravel hesitated before responding, blinking slowly as if to carefully consider his words. My patience dwindled, and | pressed him firmly, “Ravel, answer the question.” Finally, he conceded, “You mentioned that you saw her attempting to unplug the machine connected to Elenor while she was still unconscious, right?” | nodded in agreement. The detective listened attentively to our conversation. Ravel went on, “Well, Elenor told me something quite unsettling. She overheard June and my mother discussing plans to sabotage your art exhibition.” The weight of this revelation was almost too much to bear. It felt like my life had taken a sudden and surreal turn, as if | were a character in an elaborate and bewildering Hollywood saga.

My eyes widened in utter shock. “What in the world are you saying?” | struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what | had just heard.

Ravel's gaze remained steady as he continued, “My mother and

June were behind the sabotage of your art exhibition, and it appears that a close male associate of yours provided the crucial contact information of your most important clients.” A shiver of realization coursed through me. “There's only one male close enough to me who would have access to the contact details of my important clients.” | felt a sense of dread looming as | pieced the puzzle together. “Are you saying it's David?” Ravel's response was nonchalant, and he shrugged. “You asked about the connection between June and David, and | simply provided an answer. | had to reopen Elenor’s accident case before | came to Seattle.” My determination solidified as | declared, “As soon as | find my daughter, | will undoubtedly launch a legal case against your mother, Anne, and David. You better not attempt to interfere or take sides.” The detective’s curiosity deepened, and he probed further, clearly baffled by the complexity of the case. “Why would Ravel's mother want to sabotage your business?” he inquired, recognizing the need to uncover the motives behind the plot.

A surge of irritation washed over me, and | responded sharply, “She never liked me. So, I'm not surprised she’s plotting my downfall.” Ravel, not one to back down from seeking answers, interjected.

“Hold on a minute.” The collective attention shifted to him. “Why aren't you more surprised to hear that David might have betrayed you?” My heart raced as | found myself at the center of their scrutiny. | blinked, searching for the right words. “I had already started to become suspicious of him and his family.” Ravel's eyebrows arched as he probed, “Suspicious in what way?” I shrugged, unraveling a bit more of the mystery. “That's why | hired the private investigator. David was the stalker | encountered in New York,” | disclosed, and Ravel's eyes widened in response. “I ran into him at the hospital, and he provided an excuse for his behavior. | also discovered that he’s not their only child, and his family is denying it.” The unraveling secrets had now caught Ravel's attention, adding another layer

of intrigue to the perplexing situation.

With each passing day, the situation grew increasingly intricate, as if conspiring to compound the challenges we faced. New issues emerged with disconcerting regularity, leaving us on a constant quest for solutions. The latest twist came in the form.

of the detective’s parting revelation: David was slated for questioning. It was an announcement that resonated deeply with me, as | had harbored a distinct aversion to David since the beginning. His presence had always managed to rub me the wrong way, though I'd refrained from voicing my concerns too loudly, for fear of being labeled as jealous by Hazel.

The day following the detective’s disclosure was marked by a lengthy and earnest discussion with Hazel. | made it explicitly clear that | not only wanted to be informed about concerning David but that | intended to actively participate in the unfolding investigation. Whatever insights Rigger, our point person, was tasked with delivering to Hazel regarding David, | was determined to be there to bear witness to every detail.

She initially attempted to argue with me regarding my insistence on being involved in the investigation, but it soon

became evident that my resolve was unyielding. Reluctantly, she acquiesced to my request, recognizing that | was not to be dissuaded.

Leaving the living room, | made my way into the bedroom and stood there for a moment, watching her as she slept. The familiarity of the scene struck me—Hazel had taken the sleeping pills herself this time, a testament to the insomnia that had plagued her. It was a concern that lingered at the back of my mind; | hoped that her reliance on the medication wouldn't evolve into an addiction.

As | settled down next to her, | reached out to gently remove the stray hairs from her face. Her peaceful slumber, marked by even breathing and a serene expression, stirred a wish deep within me. | hoped that she would wake up to a world just as tranquil as the one she inhabited in her dreams. Leaning in, | pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, a silent gesture of love and hope for her well-being.

Just as | kissed her, my phone, tucked away in my pocket, vibrated with an incoming call. | quickly retrieved it, my brows lifting with excitement when | saw that it was Sebastian's

number. After one more affectionate peck on Hazel's forehead, | rolled out of bed to take the call, eager to hear what developments Sebastian had to share.

Stepping out onto the balcony, | closed the door behind me and swiftly answered the call, a mix of anticipation and apprehension coursing through me. “Sabestine? I've been waiting for your call, especially now that my daughter's kidnapping is connected to that relentless blackmailer.” Sabestine’s voice came through, carrying the weight of thorough investigation. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, sir, but | wanted to be absolutely certain of my findings before reaching out to you.” His tone held a rasp of determination.

“According to the last message you received from the blackmailer, | managed to track down the CCTV recording from the gaming center on that particular date. | then painstakingly scrutinized every individual who entered and exited the establishment on that day, even going so far as to question each of them.” | couldn't help but wonder whether he had questioned students, and if such an approach was even legal. But the urgency the

situation overshadowed my concerns. “And?” | pressed, my voice tense with the need for answers. “Were you able to glean any tangible information from your inquiries?” The safety of my daughter depended on the information he had uncovered.

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of A wave of relief washed over me as Sabestine delivered the news I'd been hoping for. “Yes,” he affirmed, offering me the best news I'd heard in months. “One of the students confessed to regularly sending a text to a specific number every month.” My brows shot up in surprise. “How can we be certain he's telling the truth? Kids can be quite mischievous, especially when they feel provoked.” Sabestine explained his approach, causing me to understand the gravity of the situation. “Similar to the tactic | used with every individual | questioned, | falsely claimed that | already had substantial evidence implicating them in the crime and threatened to send them to jail. The innocent ones vehemently denied any wrongdoing, but the moment | mentioned involving his parents and escalating the case to court, the young lad

broke and confessed.” | took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the weight of the situation. “How old is this kid?" | inquired, my thoughts racing.

Sabestine’s response carried the gravity of the revelation. “He's seventeen, which means he was just fifteen when he began sending those texts.” The implications of this confession were both unsettling and infuriating.

Running my fingers through my hair, | hissed under my breath.

“Why the fuck are we even doing this with a kid? Why does a kid have to be involved?!” | can’t even vent out my anger properly because we are dealing with a kid. “Who did he say instructed him to send those texts?” “He has no idea,” Sabestine answered. “According to him, he received a text from someone who told him to check the mailbox and when he did, he saw an envelope. Inside the envelope was a phone and some cash. The instruction was for him to take the phone to a gaming center, send the text that is saved in the draft, turn off the phone, and return it to the mailbox. He claimed he never knows when the

person comes to pick up the phone, all he knows is that the next morning, he finds an envelope filled with cash in the mailbox.” “So he never spoke with him or anything?” | asked, hoping for a more positive response.

“No, he didn’t,” he replied.

Holding onto the rail, | bent and growled painfully as the stabbing pain in my chest intensified. “So what? | am supposed to wait another month for you to figure that out too?” | can’t wait for another month before my daughter is rescued. “I am going to send that kid to a fucking detention center if he doesn't start talking dammit! My daughter's life fucking depends on this.” “He is not up to eighteen sir, and | don’t believe he is lying about not seeing the blackmailer or meeting with him or her, whatever identity it holds.” “So what? | am supposed to just fold my fucking arms and wait?!” he can’t be fucking serious.

“You don't have to fold your hands and wait for him to come to

you sir,” Sabestine suggested, “you are the main variable in this game, and | believe you are the only one who can lure this blackmailer out.” My brows furrowed. “How am | supposed to do that?” if | could lure him out, | would have done that years ago.

“I am going to place cameras around this kid's house, and all you have to do is prompt him to want to send another message to you. The cameras should capture him when he wants to drop off the phone.” That's a good plan. “But how do | get him to want to send me messages? It is almost as if he does that at his convenience.” “I don't think so sir,” Sebastian countered. “I have read the messages he sent to you, and with the content of the text, he is watching you.” | already have that figured out. “and this person is opposed to your relationship with Ms. Hazel.” | frowned. “What?” “The messages are centered around Ms. Hazel. The sender simply does not want you with her and tends to get upset that happens.”

“What if | am the subject of obsession?” it is possible that this person is so obsessed with me that he does not want me around any other woman.” when “If you were the object of obsession, the sender wouldn't have instructed you to have sex with the new lady in your life. To me, that seems like a technique to push you and Hazel further apart.” Anne doesn't like June either, so there is no way she would have encouraged me to carry on with my relationship with her.

The more | think about it, the more | can think of just one person who will be more than delighted to see me and Hazel apart, but then, when | divorced Hazel, she hadn't met David yet.

“So what's the plan?” “Make the person more jealous, give him or her a reason to send another text, and when that happens, we will have our culprit.”

Instigating jealousy through public display of affection shouldn't be difficult at all. “That is fine. Be expecting to hear from me soonest.” “Okay, sir.” “And Sabestine, thank you. You are the first person to give me tangible results in this case.” “It is a pleasure working with you sir.” With that, | disconnected the call and returned to Hazel's side on the bed.

On the fifth day, our anxious wait continues, and we remain in the dark without any tangible news or updates. The detective.

handling David's case has yet to share any information with us.

In an attempt to gain some insight, Ravel made a call to the detective today, seeking clarification on the progress of the investigation. The detective, in response, offered assurance that he would visit us later this evening to provide the long- awaited update.

My trust in David has waned significantly, prompting me to make a crucial decision. I've taken the step of transferring the responsibility for business decisions to Agatha. In all honesty, | find myself in a state of me ntal disarray, making it impractical for me to be the one making important choices regarding my business affairs. It's for this reason that I've opted to place my trust in Agatha to handle these crucial matters.

In contrast, Ravel is taking a hands-on approach to the management of his business affairs. While he’s currently not engaged in the creation of new jewelry sketch designs, he holds the primary responsibility for making critical business

decisions, often in conjunction with Raymond. It's evident that Raymond doesn't possess an in-depth knowledge of the intricacies of Ravel's business operations. Consequently, they engage in late-night discussions to bridge this knowledge gap.

Each night, their discussions culminate in a plan of action that Raymond diligently puts into motion the following day.

What's particularly considerate about Ravel's approach is his discretion when it comes to business matters in my presence.

He goes to great lengths to avoid bringing up business discussions or taking business calls while I'm around. It's only when he thinks I've drifted off into slumber that he quietly slips out to the balcony, where he can converse with Raymond in privacy.

After luxuriating in a refreshing shower, | opted to change into a more comfortable ensemble. Dressed in cozy attire, Iset off on a quest to locate Ravel. Eventually, | stumbled upon him in the garden, basking in the serene ambiance with a glass of wine in hand.

With a heavy sigh, | took a moment to compose myself, then slowly approached him, letting my hand gently encircle his.

waist. My voice was hushed as | asked, “Are you okay?” He inhaled deeply, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine, before he turned, his strong arms enveloping me in a reassuring embrace. “I'm fine,” he replied, though his eyes betrayed the facade. He nuzzled the crook of my neck and inhaled deeply, a small moment of solace amidst the uncertainty. “You smell nice,” he murmured, a genuine compliment amidst the tension.

| mustered a tight smile, attempting to infuse some levity into the moment for his sake. | recognized that he was carrying his own burdens in this situation. “Well, | did just have a shower, so smelling nice is part of the deal,” | playfully quipped. “But speaking of showers, maybe you should consider a cold one, and, dare | say it, a haircut.” His laughter was a welcome sound, a brief respite from the heaviness of the situation. “Personal grooming isn’t quite at the top of my priorities right now,” he admitted, drawing back slightly to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

“What do you think about an early dinner? You ski pped lunch today, and it's essential to keep your energy up.”

Despite my diminished appetite, which had seemingly vanished alongside the void left by our daughter's absence, | felt at strong urge to provide Ravel with one less concern to bear. “I'll take care of the cooking,” | mused softly, “What would you like to eat?” His eyes darted about in contemplation, considering the question. Before he could respond, our conversation was abruptly interrupted by Daisy's nanny. “I apologize for the interruption, ma'am, but the detective has arrived.” My heart quickened at the prospect of potentially positive news.

“We'll attend to him shortly,” | assured her with gratitude in my voice, and she nodded before retreating. Ravel attempted to guide me away to deal with the detective, but | firmly grasped his hand, halting his progress. “Ravel, you don't need to conceal your emotions from me. You have every right to grieve and express your feelings, and | want to share that burden with you.” His gaze bore into me with a raw intensity, a reflection of the depths of his emotions. My hand, trembling ever so slightly,

rose to gently cup his cheek, a tender gesture that seemed to unleash a torrent of feelings within him. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, their steady descent mirroring the silent, heavy rain of his pain. Without hesitation, | guided his head to rest upon my shoulder, offering him the comfort of my embrace.

He clung to me, and in that moment, he sobbed uncontrollably, each heave of his shoulders a release of the anguish that had been festering within.

For a full minute, | remained there, the steady rhythm of my hand stroking his back acting as a soothing balm for his wounded spirit. “I miss her,” he croaked out, his voice breaking with the weight of his sorrow. “I miss her so intensely that it feels as if I'm slowly losing my mind.” My heart ached in perfect resonance with his words. | understood that feeling all too well. At times, it seemed as though I could still hear her laughter and the sound of her cries, as if her giggles still reverberated within her room. But when | mustered the courage to step inside, all that greeted me was the oppressive and cold silence, a stark reminder of her absence that echoed in the very depths of my soul.

“We're going to find her, aren't we?” he whispered, his voice quivering with vulnerability, and the raw emotion in his words.

threatened to bring tears to my eyes. “She's going to come back to us, right?” Gently grasping his cheek, | nodded, doing my best to muster strength for both of us in that fragile moment. “She will most definitely come back to us, Ravel. Never doubt that.” He nodded in response, biting his lower lip as he tried to regain composure. | reached up, using my thumb to wipe away the lingering traces of his tears. “Now, let's go find out what the detective has to say about David.” Nodding once more, he wiped the rest of his tears away, and a faint chuckle escaped him. “I'm grateful to have a strong woman like you, Hazel.” | couldn't help but grin widely in response. “I know, right?” | took his hand and led him toward the living room. Just before we entered the living room, he wiped away all traces of his tears, expertly concealing his emotions behind his usual mask of cold and unyielding demeanor.

The detective, a picture of professionalism, had risen from his chair to greet us, a gesture that conveyed respect. “Good evening, Mr. Southwark,” he addressed Ravel, who responded with a crisp nod. We assumed our positions on the sofa, positioning ourselves directly in front of the detective before he took his seat.

“In the course of my investigation involving David,” he began, leaning forward slightly, “I conducted a series of inquiries about you, to which he provided responses. When | delved into his relationship with Mr. Southwark, he stated that he neither categorized it as a friendship nor enmity.” Restlessness crept over me, and | couldn't suppress my impatience. “And what about his connection to June?” Maintaining his professional demeanor, the detective continued, “In regard to that, he asserted that he lacks a significant closeness with Ms. June. Nevertheless, he did acknowledge that she visited him at his residence yesterday, seeking insights into Mr. Southwark’s emotional state.” | couldn't help but scoff at the explanation. “And what stopped

her from simply asking him directly?” | mused aloud, skepticism apparent. “June has never been one to respect boundaries, so what prompted this sudden change?” my The detective, maintaining his calm, relayed David's side of the story. “According to David, he posed the same question to her, and her rationale was that she and Mr. Southwark had a mutual agreement not to communicate, and she didn't want to risk breaking that agreement, as she was uncertain about how you would react.” | turned to Ravel, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. “Did you really have such an agreement with her?” He nodded. “So she went over to his place to ask him about you? Since when did she assume he would have any insight into how you're feeling?” | questioned with exasperation, my frustration nearly driving me to pull at my hair. “I don’t know about you, detective, but I'm not buying this story.” The detective’s agreement was clear. “I don’t buy it either,” he acknowledged. “That's precisely why I've deployed some of my

men to keep a close eye on both David and June. If they engage in any suspicious activity, it will be promptly reported to me.” “That's reassuring,” | replied, my heart heavy with the hope that Ravel wasn't involved in our daughter's disappearance. The mere thought of such betrayal was almost unbearable.

Chapter 119 “For the time being, you'll have to exercise caution around him,” The detective’s words brought my attention back to the moment. | found myself staring at the bracelet he had gifted me on my last birthday. It felt like a stark contrast to our current situation, a reminder of how things had taken a turn for the worse between us.

My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket, and | quickly retrieved it. When | saw the caller's name, | raised the phone to Ravel's face. “It's Rigger. | think he might have some information about David.”

“Answer it and put it on speaker,” the detective advised.

With a swipe of my thumb, | accepted the call and placed it on loudspeaker. “Hello, Rigger.”

Rigger had to reveal about David. The suspense hung in the air, and even the seasoned detective seemed to share my anticipation, eager to unearth the enigmatic secrets that the conniving scoundrel had so skillfully hidden away. Rigger, a renowned investigator in his own right, may not have quite reached the legendary status of Sabestine, but his reputation.

assured me that he was more than capable of delving into the depths of David's life, uncovering those elusive details that remained concealed to the naked eye.

With a respectful and somewhat somber tone, Rigger began, “Good evening, ma'am,” his words carrying a genuine weight of empathy. “Before | embark on this journey of discovery, I'd like to extend my deepest sympathies to you for the tragic ordeal your daughter has endured.” His heartfelt condolences served as a reminder of the gravity of the situation we were all entangled in.

Hazel's reaction to Rigger's empathy was obvious; she physically tensed, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the edge of the sofa. Sensing the need to maintain focus and urgency, | quickly intervened, my voice edged with impatience, urging Rigger to cut through the pleasantries and get straight to

the heart of the matter.

“Let's not dwell on sympathy, Rigger,” | insisted firmly, “It won't help us find our daughter or bring her home. Please, just tell us why you called.” Rigger, recognizing my voice instantly, responded with an apologetic tone, “Mr. Southwark, | apologize if my words made you and Ms. Blacks uncomfortable. That was never my intention.” My impatience boiled over as | snapped, “No more apologies.

Just get to the point. We were in the middle of something important before you called, and Hazel isn’t in the right frame of mind for a prolonged conversation.” -Acknowledging the urgency, Rigger apologized once more before unveiling the purpose of his call, his voice filled with a sense of gravity, “I understand, Mr. Southwark. Now, regarding the information you asked me to confirm: You were indeed correct. Monica did have a daughter, who is currently eighteen years old. However, there's a troubling twist to this story. That young woman vanished without a trace three long years ago,

with no trace”.

Hazel's fingers interlocked, her brow furrowing deeply in concern as she sought more details. “Disappeared how?” she inquired with a mixture of anxiety and confusion.

Rigger proceeded to provide further details, painting a perplexing picture of the young woman's vanishing act. “She simply stopped showing up to work, and remarkably, no one, not her neighbors, nor her landlord, had any inkling of her whereabouts. Friends close to the missing girl, a young lady named Delilah, became increasingly concerned and decided to pay Monica a visit in an attempt to uncover the truth behind her disappearance.” Rigger continued, “Monica's response to their inquiry only deepened the mystery. She claimed that her daughter had left for a nunnery school in England, with the intention of becoming a nun after completing the program. Since Delilah’s mother hadn't declared her as missing, there was no legal basis to initiate a missing person case, and the matter eventually faded away. To this day, no one has laid eyes on her.”

Puzzled by this explanation, | couldn't help but voice my confusion, “Is Monica perhaps ashamed that her daughter chose to become a nun? It's hard to comprehend the motivation behind such a drastic vanishing act.” “That doesn't make sense, and it doesn’t seem like something Monica will do. But why deny her existence?” Hazel asked, more to herself than her.

“That's not all.” Rigger chimed in. “I went in search of the nunnery school she claimed Delilah went for, but | found out that there is no one like in that school. No one has seen or heard of her.” That's absurd. “Then what happened to her if she isn't at the nunnery?” | asked.

Hazel's eyes widened as though a stray thought crossed her mind. “Do you think she killed her? Maybe it was an accident, 13 and she buried her and then lied about the nunnery to cover it up?”

“That | do not know, nor did I look into it. You only told me to find out if Monica really did have a female child, which | did.” He's right. I'll have to pay him extra if | want him to do more work. “What about David? anything about him that we need to know?” “I'm not done with Monica.” He replied calmly yet respectfully.

“Monica moved to Seattle three years ago, one week after her daughter's disappearance, and there were no traces of her having a male child in the past.” Hazel's eyes widened. “Are you saying David is not her son? | remember she mentioned something like that in the hospital after her fall, but | ruled it out as the side effect of aesthetic.” “What I'm saying is that there is no record of her giving birth to a son. If she lied about her daughter, then there is a possibility she is also lying about her son.” Hazel sighed heavily. “Don’t worry about that, I'll handle it myself.” She stated and | almost reprimanded her for opting to do something that she doesn’t know the level of danger attached to it, but | bit my lips. If I'm going to reprimand her, it

won't be in public.

“Moving to David,” Rigger continued, “I found out that he moved to Seattle three ago too,” That was the exact year Hazel moved to Seattle too. “And he used to reside in New York before his sudden relocation.” Hazel's brows jumped to her hairline. “David once lived in New York? He never told me that.” Rigger hummed in agreement with his earlier statement. “He lived in New York for five years before moving to Seattle, but before his life in New York, he stayed in Ohio, Damariscotta, Maine, Pella lowa, West Virginia, and lastly, New Hampshire. In all these towns that | mentioned, each of them, He had a girlfriend, and they either went missing or turned up dead in their apartment. Cause of death was always ruled as suicide.” The detective in the room with us cursed under his breath at the same time as Hazel. “This isn’t a small case we have here.” Rigger paused. “Who was that?” “The detective in charge of my daughter's case,” | responded

on behalf of Hazel who is obviously still in shock. “He was investigating David's connection to the case and | figured he should just listen so he can know the kind of person David really is.” “The information | am relaying to Ms. Hazel is an illegal collection of data,” Rigger pointed out, “nobody should call me to testify in any court or make any statement, cause I'm not doing that.” “That isn’t a problem,” the detective assured him, “I have no plans of complicating you in any way. Just carry on with your findings.” “Are you sure the death of his previous girlfriend isn't just a coincidence?” Hazel asked in a hushed tone, still living in denial over what she just heard. “David isn't looking like someone who is capable of murder.” “It isn't written on the face.” | don’t know why she is trying to defend him, but one thing is certain, she is going to stay away from him until all this is figured out. “I am doubling your security until David is either arrested or cleared.”

Rigger cleared his throat again, demanding for our attention.

“Lastly, he went to two art schools in Seattle but the other one was just two months programs.” “Wait!” Hazel called out, “Why was he taking another art class?” “To enhance his abilities as an artist?” Rigger suggested. His tone showed that he wasn't certain of his words either.

She licked her lips. “Did he ever work at any hospital where he painted artworks for the obstetric ward?” Hazel asked impatiently.

“If I didn’t find anything like that, that means it never happened.

David has never worked for a hospital and he knew nothing major about art until he started taking extra classes for it.” Chapter 120 Hazel's lips trembled. “Thank you, Rigger.” She pointed out, “Is there any other thing to uncover about him?” “That's all for now.” Hazel nodded. “Alright then, I'll have to speak with you later.” She disconnected the call before chucking the phone on the sofa. “As you can see detective, David is more wild than we

give him credit for.” “This is a dangerous case,” the detective replied. “And I'd advise you stay away from that family for a while.” | can't agree with him more..

“How about you focus on finding my daughter while | focus on my things.” Hazel deadpanned.

Last night, as the hours ticked away, Ravel and | found ourselves trapped in the clutches of insomnia, unable to slip into the realm of dreams. | made a conscious decision to forgo any sleep-inducing pills, a choice rooted in my ongoing effort to curb their consumption, steering clear of any potential addiction that might rear its head.

The subsequent morning arrived with its soft light filtering through the curtains, painting a new day. Groggily, | opened my eyes to the sight of Ravel's silhouette, a gentle smile on his face, and two cups of freshly brewed coffee in his hands.

“Good morning.” | managed to mumble, my body weary from the battle with restlessness that had consumed a significant part of the night. For the sake of both Ravel and myself, | hoped that this day would offer a better beginning, free from the shadows of sleeplessness and a good news about my daughter.

Ravel's response was kind and supportive as he handed me one of the coffee cups. “Good morning to you too,” he said, his tone filled with empathy. “You're going to need this to kickstart

your day effectively,” he added, acknowledging the importance of caffeine in helping us shake off the remnants of a sleepless night.

With a weary but appreciative smile, | took the offered coffee and brought it to my lips, hoping the rich aroma and caffeine infusion would rouse my tired cells from their slumber. My curiosity got the better of me as | couldn't help but inquire, “What time did you manage to wake up?” | knew that | had nodded off before him, and since | had last glimpsed the clock, it couldn't have been more than a few hours past four in the morning. “Did you get any rest at all?” Ravel met my gaze with a soft smile, reassuring me, “I dozed off right after you did.” He took a final, hearty gulp of his coffee, then deposited the empty cup gently on the table. “How about we switch things up today and grab breakfast outside?” he proposed, the prospect of a fresh morning meal dancing in his eyes.

However, the thought of food didn't sit well with my stomach at

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the moment. “I'm not really hungry,” | admitted, placing my now—empty cup on the bedside table. | rolled off the bed and made my way to the bathroom. “But if you're feeling hungry, please don't let my lack of appetite hold you back from enjoying a meal,” | added with a faint smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

Stepping into the bathroom, | moved with deliberate care, retrieving my toothbrush and toothpaste from the shelf. With each stroke, | scrubbed my teeth, the rhythmic swish of the bristles providing a small but comforting distraction from the lingering weight of sleepless nights.

As | diligently cleaned my teeth, | noticed Ravel still hovering near the doorway, silently watching me. His presence, although unspoken, carried a sense of unity and support, a reminder that we were in this together. The mundane act of brushing my teeth felt strangely comforting, a small island of normalcy in our otherwise turbulent world.

Ravel finally spoke up, his voice carrying a hint of longing for fresh air and a break from the relentless confinement. “Even if you're not hungry, | think it's essential for us to step outside the

confines of this house.” His words resonated with me. | couldn't deny that the walls of this place seemed to press in on us, suffocating us slowly. With a resigned sigh, | nodded, conceding, “Fine, let's grab ‘something to eat from one of the nearby restaurants.” Ravel's face brightened with enthusiasm, and he replied, “Great. I'll give you some space to get ready.” With that, he left the room.

Alone with my thoughts, | realized that the topic of David loomed like an unspoken specter between us. The phone call with Rigger last night had stirred emotions, concerns, and unresolved questions. | knew that a significant conversation awaited us, and it wouldn't be an easy one.

| couldn't help but ponder how to broach the subject with Ravel.

He might not agree with my determination to pursue David, especially after the call’s revelations. Yet, deep down, | felt compelled to take on the responsibility of digging deeper into this mysterious situation. It was a duty that seemed to fall

squarely on my shoulders, and | couldn't shirk it.

Alll need to do is convince Ravel to check on his office duties in New York, and when he leaves for New York, | will pay 13 David a visit at his place, and take a sample of his hair before heading to Monica's place to do the same.

I need to confirm if David isn't really Monica's son. | need to be sure; | need to confirm the fact that David isn't really who | think he is. For the sake of our friendship and relationship, | am not going to jump to a conclusion until | have a shred of valid and concrete evidence to prove me otherwise.

Taking a quick shower, | changed into a simple black dress before walking out of the room in search of Ravel. | found him in the living room, already dressed up. | guess he returned to the bedroom to dress while | was taking a shower.

Now in black plain trousers and a shirt with black leather jacket, he pocketed his phone when he saw me coming down. The swiftness with which he pocketed the phone made my eyes narrow suspiciously. “Were you with anyone on the phone?”

Approaching me, he nodded. “I was speaking with Raymond about some business issues.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead. “It's nothing for you to worry about.” Hand in hand, we walked into the parking lot. Ravel opened the passenger door for me and when | got in, he rounded the car and got into the driver's seat. | watched him as he carefully rolled the car out of the parking lot.

Folding my hands, | cleared my throat, prompting him to glance quickly at me. “Do you have something on your mind?” He asked as he searched for the nearest restaurant to pull over.

“It's about your business,” | confessed, “Don’t you think you should head down to New York, even if it is for a day or two, so you can be sure nothing is going wrong.” Reaching forward with his free hands, he took mine and squeezed gently. “I am not going back to New York until my daughter is found.” He insisted firmly, “and | trust Raymond to take care of my business until | return.” “Speaking of Raymond,” | continued, “have you guys been able to sort things out between yourselves?”

Ravel bit his lower lips, an indication that he wasn’t so sure of the answer himself. “We aren't there yet, but we're getting somewhere.” I really hope they fix whatever issue that is going on between them. “And how is Elenor?” | really should give her a call. I've been so engrossed in finding Daisy and unraveling David's true identity that I've forgotten about other things happening around me.

“She is getting better.” He replied, “She's just struggling with therapy, but I'm sure she will fight and overcome this too.” It must be overwhelming for Raymond to be handling both Elenor and the business. “Are you really sure you do not want to touch down in New York?” | really won't mind. It's not like we are the ones going from street to street to look for her.

“I am certain Hazel,” He assured me with a gentle squeeze of my hand, “I want to be here for you, to be here for us.” Tell me how it is impossible not to fall for him the more. “I'm going to tell you a secret,” | mumbled.

Although curious about what | just said, he patiently pulled over to the parking lot of one of the popular restaurants around the area before turning to me. “What secret?” “I woke up this morning with the plan of convincing you to leave for New York,” | confessed and his brows jumped to his hairline.

“I know that sounds crazy.” He blinked at me slowly before chuckling. “So Why are you suddenly telling me about your secrets instead of working towards enacting them?” “Because | figured there is no reason to keep this from you,” | replied with a slight frown. “We agreed not to keep anything from each other and | want to uphold that.” Ravel turned to face me directly as he folded his hands. “What were you planning on hiding from me?” “I am going to David's place today,” | confessed yet again, “l am going to his house to take his hair sample, after which, | am going to visit his mother and do the same.”

Not in support of my plans, Ravel shook his head. “David is dangerous Hazel. None of his girlfriends are alive. That is how much of a scary dude he is. | can't have you go around him without any security.” He isn't going to change my mind about going to David's. “This is completely safe Ravel, do you know why?” He simply blinked at me in response, waiting for me to continue, and | did continue. “The fact that he doesn't suspect that | know anything about his past is the greatest weapon we have against him.”

Hazel, with her unwavering determination, remains resolute in her insistence on personally overseeing the DNA test for David and Monica. Despite my relentless attempts to sway her from this path, her stubbornness shines through. It's a quality of hers that I'm well acquainted with, and given the difficulty of changing her mind, I've instead opted to provide her with my wholehearted support and encouragement, all the while being vigilant in protecting her from potential troubles.

Indeed, it's the least | can do for her during this trying time: The realization that the person in question was in close proximity to my woman and our daughter sends shivers down my spine. It's disconcerting to think that Hazel had placed enough trust in him to leave our precious Daisy under his care. Under such circumstances, it wouldn't be entirely shocking if we were to uncover a connection between him and the harrowing disappearance and kidnapping of our dear Daisy.

Carrying out Sabestine’s instructions had become a solemn obligation for me. The breakfast | shared with Hazel yesterday, while it might seem like a gesture of happiness, was anything

but that. After all, how could one revel in joy when the shadow of my missing daughter loomed over every moment? My primary objective in close proximity to Hazel was not just to provide moral support but also to ignite a reaction from the individual responsible for those chilling, threatening messages.

The only hope | held was that by being close to Hazel, holding her hand, planting soft kisses on her cheek and her hand, it might somehow provoke the person responsible for sending those ominous messages to send more information.

As the day unfolded, Hazel's presence at the office became imperative. Several essential documents necessitated her signature, a task that had to be attended to in person, as Agatha, our usual courier of these documents, was preoccupied with other commitments. | saw it as a golden opportunity to encourage Hazel to step out of the house, if only temporarily, to temporarily shift her focus away from the distressing situation involving David. Regrettably, David wasn't available as an option to collect the documents because his return to work was still pending.

Hazel's decision to instruct David to stay away was

accompanied by a veil of concern that went beyond the excuse of his -healing gunshot wound. It was crystal clear to me that trust, even in the slightest degree, was a scarce commodity in her dealings with him.

The weight of culpability weighs heavily on my conscience as | contemplate how my own actions played a part in David's presence in Hazel's life. Regret gnaws at me as | mull over the notion that, had | not driven her away with my past hurtful behavior, New York would remain her residence, and the very possibility of her crossing paths with David or establishing any form of relationship with him would be a remote concept.

A cup of coffee grasped firmly in my hand, | shifted my gaze towards the outside world through the kitchen window, all the while trying to maintain focus on Raymond's words resonating from the other end of the telephone line. “I appreciate your optimism and the sense of hope, Ravel, but have you pondered the path we'll tread after we eventually apprehend this individual?”

As | contemplated Raymond's words, | realized that our course of action needed more consideration than just capturing the wrongdoer. The potential consequences of that bastard turning to the police were profound, and the exposure of the incriminating video was a risk | couldn't overlook. It had the potential to unravel everything we had worked tirelessly to safeguard.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as | mulled over the complexities of our predicament. “Negotiating with this person or instilling fear might indeed be the more prudent approach,” | admitted, acknowledging the need for a solution that could halt the ongoing turmoil and offer protection to both Hazel and myself.

The weight of responsibility bore down on me as | realized that the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty and peril. We were now confronted with a daunting task of devising a plan that not only brought the malefactor to justice but also ensured the safety and security of our loved ones.

“If Sabestine is right about the mysterious sender being obsessed with Hazel, then know that no level of negogiation or ‘compromise will make him change his mind about letting you

and Hazel live happily forever after. If you plan on catching him, then you have to come up with a plan.” Raymond explained.

1/2 2/2 Chapter 122 Taking a deep breath, | resolved to confide in Hazel, knowing that transparency and unity were our best weapons against this threat. “I believe it's time | had a heartfelt conversation with Hazel about all of this,” | divulged, a sense of responsibility guiding my decision. “For us to confront this ordeal together, she must be fully aware of the circumstances.” Raymond nodded in agreement, reaffirming his longstanding advice. “I've been urging you to take this step for a while now,” he acknowledged. “Gaining a comprehensive understanding of the entire situation, particularly the details of how Hazel came into possession of that butter knife, is pivotal. Subsequently, we should engage a detective or law enforcement officer to preemptively investigate the case. Having solid evidence of her innocence in hand before the malefactor can exploit this in a

court of law is paramount.” “That's the plan,” | affirmed, appreciating Raymond's guidance.

“I'll have this conversation with her when she returns from the office.” “Tell me what?” Hazel's voice suddenly sounded from the doorway, catching me off guard. Her arrival had been so discreet that | hadn't even heard her car pull in or sensed her approach.

| redirected my focus to Raymond, offering a quick explanation.

“I'll have to call you back later, Raymond. Hazel has just walked in, and | think it's the perfect time to talk to her about everything.”