Chapter 478 It's Me
Anne pushed him away immediately. "You're so creepy! Let go of me!"
Instead of backing away, Willard stepped forward, his knee parting her legs.
Panic surged through Anne. "Don't try anything or I'll—"
"You'll what?" Willard kissed the tip of her nose. "You can barely push me away. Do you really think your threats mean anything? So naive."
"I wasn't trying to seduce you," Anne admitted truthfully. "Don't get the wrong idea. I just wanted the phone in your pocket."
"Oh?" Willard's voice dripped with sarcasm.
Anne grabbed his throat. "Will you let me go or not?"
Willard didn't even flinch, looking down at her with an amused smile.
Despite using all her strength, Anne couldn't budge him an inch. Finally, she gave up. "Whatever. Just do what you want and get it over with."
When Willard released her, Anne bolted for the door, only to discover the previously deserted island was now guarded by numerous men who immediately blocked her exit.
No wonder Willard hadn't bothered to tie her up or lock her away.
Defeated, she turned back, slumped onto the sofa, and sighed heavily.
While Willard made a phone call, he glanced at her—a figure wrapped in a delicate shroud of melancholy. A flicker of amusement crossed his eyes as he listened to the report.
"Sir, we've been intercepted by Mr. Francis Peterson. Mr. Lyndon Myles is also here."
"Hmm," Willard responded. "Ignore them."
After hanging up, he returned to his work in the kitchen.
Suncrest City
At a recently built small airport, an impressive fleet of vehicles and crowd of people had gathered, nearly bringing operations to a standstill.
Fortunately, only one plane had been detained, causing minimal disruption. The airport management had issued orders—this was beyond their jurisdiction—and continued their regular operations.
Jerry noticed Francis lighting a cigarette.
"Thought you quit?" he asked.
Francis wished he had. Willard taking Anne left him unsure how to explain it to Elissa. It was more complicated than anything he'd faced before. So he tried to calm his nerves by smoking.
"Cut the act," Lyndon said coldly. "You've known Willard for years. With your cunning mind, you must have anticipated his plan."
Francis choked on the smoke. It had been a while since he'd smoked, and the borrowed cigarette hit hard.
Jerry helpfully—and forcefully—slapped him on the back, nearly knocking his internal organs loose.
Francis shot him a bloodshot glare.
Jerry snapped his fingers. "You're welcome."
Francis doubled over, taking a moment to recover. He knew better than to offend Lyndon directly.
"At least I'm not the one who let someone take Anne," he muttered.
Lyndon's expression darkened further. "Are you mocking me?"
"Wouldn't dare." Francis accepted a glass of water from Simon, took a sip, and said, "Yes, I've known Willard for years, but I'm not a mind reader. I can't know his every plan. I may be cunning, but his scheming is not to be underestimated. Hell, I'm closer to Jerry, and even I can't always predict what he's thinking."
Jerry watched Francis's performance with interest. Marriage had improved his acting skills—he was clearly trying to shift some of his wife's potential anger onto Lyndon.
While Willard was indeed calculating, Francis claiming he couldn't guess Willard's plan was pure pretense. Even Jerry knew intercepting the plane was useless.
With Lyndon in hot pursuit, Willard would have prepared multiple contingencies, like parachuting mid-flight.
But Jerry was content to watch the drama unfold without exposing this.
"I accept my responsibility in this," Lyndon admitted, ever forthright. "But the failure to rescue Anne falls on you."
Francis was helpless.
He could probably guess where Willard had parachuted, but the landing zone offered countless possibilities. It would take more than a day or two to locate them.
If Willard had been bold enough to snatch Anne from under Lyndon's nose, he must have meticulously planned every detail, anticipating their search and preparing to change locations accordingly.
This would be a protracted battle, and explaining it to Elissa would be nearly impossible.
After a moment of silence, he turned to Lyndon. "I assume you won't be accepting Willard being with Anne?"
Lyndon eyed him suspiciously. "What are you getting at?"
"Nothing," Francis massaged his throbbing temple. "Just worried you might suddenly decide Willard's not so bad after all and put in a good word with my wife."
Lyndon gave him one last cold glance before dropping the subject.
As Francis went to instruct Simon, Jerry followed, draping an arm around his shoulders. "Not afraid of offending Lyndon anymore?"
Francis replied flatly, "Whether I offend him or not, the situation remains the same."
"True enough."
Willard set the food on the table.
He noticed the young woman curled up on the sofa, looking even more dejected than before—clearly frustrated at finding no escape.
He walked over and lifted her into his arms.
As expected, she fought back, her nails leaving bloody scratches across his chin.
Anne immediately panicked and protected her hands. "You—you suddenly got handsy. Not my fault..."
Willard gave her a penetrating look before setting her down on a dining chair.
After taking his seat, he served her soup and other dishes.
"Eat," he said. "You'll need your strength if you want to think of a way to escape."
Anne was still shaken. She remembered all too well the consequences of that slap.
The current situation was worse than on the plane—no one could help her here.
She was merely a plaything in Willard's hands.
"Why aren't you eating?" he asked. "Or perhaps... you'd like to do something else first?"
Anne quickly picked up her fork and began eating silently.
Willard's lips curled slightly as he continued serving her food.
Quinton walked in, hesitated at the scene, and turned to leave, but Willard called him back.
"Sir?"
"Speak."
Quinton glanced at Anne, feeling her icy glare, and quickly reported, "Mr. Peterson and his men are searching the area."
Willard remained impassive, even letting out a soft laugh. "That was quick."
He waved his hand, dismissing Quinton.
His gaze fell on Anne, whose eyes were darting around calculatingly.
"Happy?" he asked.
Anne said nothing, focusing on her food.
Willard placed a spare rib on her plate. "You should eat more. That way, when your sister arrives, you'll have the strength to run."
Anne immediately grew anxious. "Don't tell my sister!"
Elissa was in the late stages of pregnancy, and Anne feared the stress might cause premature labor. She couldn't let that happen.
"Tell Francis that I'm fine, that I left with you willingly. Tell them to stop looking for me."
Willard handed her his phone. "Tell them yourself."
Anne's initial delight at receiving the phone quickly faded as she realized the trap. "You did this on purpose!"
Willard didn't deny it.
Anne didn't care anymore and immediately dialed Francis's number.
When Francis saw the incoming call, his right eyelid twitched violently.
Jerry noticed. "Why aren't you answering?"
Francis sighed in frustration. "Stop enjoying the show. You answer it."
Jerry raised both hands. "Your wife and my wife are thick as thieves. If you're scared, why would I dare?"
The phone felt like a hot potato in Francis's hand.
Finally, he answered. "Willard, you only have one chance—"
"It's me."
Francis sensed trouble. "Put Willard on the phone."
"Does Elissa know about this?" Anne asked.
"Where are you?"
Anne ignored his question. "Francis, tell Elissa I went with Willard willingly. Tell her not to worry and to focus on her delivery. I'll find a way to be there when she gives birth."
On his way here, Francis had considered many possibilities, but not this one.
He'd assumed Anne despised Willard and would try to send a message or escape. Instead, she claimed to have left willingly.
If he told Elissa this, she might actually believe it.
"Anne, please understand my position. You know Elissa. Just tell me where you are, and I'll come get you."
Suddenly, the phone was snatched away.
Lyndon, unencumbered by international travel, moved freely.
"Anne, where are you?"
Before Anne could answer, Willard took the phone and hung up.
Anne dared not express her anger.
Willard pocketed the phone, ignoring its continued vibrations.
He tapped her bowl with his fork. "Eat."
Anne lowered her head and ate. In truth, she didn't know where they were either—she couldn't have answered even if she wanted to.
Meanwhile, Lyndon smashed his phone in rage.
Francis remained silent.
Simon retrieved the phone—thankfully their custom-made devices were durable.
Francis took it back, slipped it into his pocket, and ordered the search to continue.
Dawn was breaking. He needed to return home.
"Keep an eye on things here," he told Jerry before leaving.
Jerry nodded and continued the search.
Lyndon didn't try to stop Francis, understanding that Elissa needed someone, especially given her condition.
When Francis arrived home, he found Elissa not in the bedroom but sitting in the living room. She likely hadn't slept since he left.
He placed the breakfast he'd brought on the coffee table, arranging everything neatly.
"Can we talk while we eat?"
Elissa glanced at the food but didn't move or respond.
Francis pulled her into his arms. Words were useless now; he could only tell the truth.
He took out his phone. "Listen to this recording first."
The recording contained Anne's statement about leaving willingly with Willard.
After listening, Elissa looked at Francis, her expression blank.
Francis tossed the phone aside and stroked her hair.
"I didn't believe it. It's obvious she was threatened. I just came back to update you. Jerry and Lyndon are monitoring the situation. They'll find her."
Elissa spoke quietly, "Do you really think Willard would let himself be found so easily?"
"Not easily, but if we keep pursuing him, we'll find him eventually."
Francis handed her the porridge. "Eat something."
Elissa refused to be fed, taking the bowl herself.
Francis placed steamed dumplings in front of her.
"You don't need to take care of me," she said. "I can eat by myself. You should eat too."
Francis felt immense relief at her words. She wasn't angry with him.
"I truly overlooked this possibility. I thought Anne would be safe with Lyndon in Silverlight City, that Willard wouldn't dare make a move there. I never imagined he'd be bold enough to take her directly."
Elissa understood his implication. "You want me to blame Lyndon instead of you."
Francis maintained his composure. "Of course not. This is entirely my responsibility."
Elissa said nothing more, only adding, "I want to see Anne when I give birth."
Francis promised, "Don't worry."
His confidence came not from believing he could find Willard, but from knowing Willard would allow Anne to return for the birth.
After all, they still had some time, and Willard had his reasons for taking Anne. If his plans didn't work out, he'd change strategies.
This situation needed resolution; otherwise, it would be endless entanglement that would disturb his and Elissa's peace.
So Francis had deliberately eased up on his pursuit.
When Thora woke up, she was alone in the room.
Checking the time, she assumed Anne had gone for breakfast and texted her.
After waiting without a reply, she called, only to hear the ringtone coming from the bathroom.
She found Anne's phone there.
"How is she paying without her phone?" she wondered.
Then she remembered they were at Lyndon's place, where Anne could charge expenses to an account.
After waiting longer with no sign of Anne, Thora went to the restaurant to look for her.
Having searched everywhere without success, she asked the front desk, but they knew nothing.
Without authority to check surveillance footage, she could only call Lyndon, using the number from his business card that she'd memorized when they met.
No one answered.
Thinking he might be ignoring an unknown number, she used Anne's phone, knowing her unlock pattern.
This time, the call was answered immediately.
"Anne, where are you?!" The urgent voice had lost its usual coolness.
Thora knew instantly something was wrong.
"It's me, Mr. Myles. I found Ms. Waverly's phone in the bathroom—"
Before she could finish, she was cut off by a cold, scolding voice. She could imagine his fox-like eyes, now probably glacial with anger.
"You shared a room with her and didn't notice she was missing? What were you doing while she was being taken?"
Thora accepted some responsibility. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have drunk so much last night..."
Just then, a casual male voice interrupted—one she recognized as Hope's husband.
"Mr. Myles, that's not fair. How can you blame her? Isn't Silverlight City your territory?"
Lyndon hung up.
Thora was bewildered, but as she replayed Jerry's words in her mind, she realized he had a point.
If Silverlight City was Lyndon's domain and Anne could still be abducted, what could Thora have done even if she'd been awake?
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