Chapter 479 Take a Gamble
After finishing her meal, Anne was whisked away by Willard.
First a helicopter, then a yacht. By the end of their journey, she had completely lost track of where they were.
Days and nights of travel had left her physically and emotionally drained. She refused to exchange even a single word with Willard, burying herself deep under the covers.
She had exhausted every argument, every plea. Now all she could do was pray that Willard would come to his senses and let her go home.
"Care to make a wager?" Willard pulled back the blanket and helped her sit up.
"Elissa's due date is still weeks away. Let's call a temporary truce on our... complications. If during this time you find yourself falling for me again, you lose—and we remarry. If your heart remains unmoved, I'll take you home."
Anne's mind raced. Something about this felt too easy, too convenient. Willard never gave up without a fight.
But she couldn't find any obvious loopholes in his proposal. If anything, the odds were heavily in her favor.
After all, she felt nothing but disgust for him now. Even if he died for her, she wouldn't be moved.
After careful consideration, she decided to take the gamble. "No verbal agreements. Put it in writing, signed and sealed."
Willard immediately produced a document. "Already done—signed and fingerprinted."
His preparedness made her hesitate. This felt suspiciously like a trap.
"Having second thoughts?" Willard started to withdraw the paper. "Then I'll consider that a forfeit. We'll head back to Seaside City in a few days for the wedding."
"Wait!" Anne scrambled forward, grabbing for the document.
But Willard held it high above her reach, and she didn't dare pull too hard for fear of tearing it. "I haven't agreed yet! You can't make unilateral decisions!"
She didn't realize that in her attempt to reach the elevated paper, she had pressed herself entirely against him, inadvertently creating friction with her movements.
Finally, Willard gently but firmly pushed her away. "Seduction won't work. Let's keep this civil. No cheating."
Anne wanted to strangle him. "What exactly do you want from me!"
Willard handed her the document. "Just teasing. Sign it."
Anne took the paper and pen he offered. As she slowly signed her name and pressed her thumbprint, Willard watched with satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.
After completing the formalities, Anne didn't return the document. "Contracts usually come in duplicate. I'm keeping this copy."
"Suit yourself." Willard stood and tilted his head toward the door. "Come on, let's have a barbecue."
They were now on a private island, vastly different from the rustic cabin where they'd first landed after the parachute jump. Instead of a simple wooden structure, an elegant multi-story mansion now stood before them.
The surrounding area had been meticulously landscaped and designed, creating an idyllic paradise.
As Anne took in the scene, she realized the truth—the cabin had been merely a temporary waystation, a red herring for Francis. This island had always been Willard's true destination.
The presence of dedicated staff and housekeepers made it clear this had been planned for months.
"Willard, when did you acquire this island?"
They walked toward the beach where a barbecue setup and camping chairs awaited them.
Willard strode ahead without looking back. "It's not mine."
"Then whose is it?"
"No one you'd know."
Willard pulled out a chair and patted the back, gesturing for her to sit.
Anne didn't press further. She could tell Willard had no intention of elaborating, and pushing would only yield lies anyway.
Quinton finished delegating his duties and retreated with his team to a discreet distance.
A small side table held an array of colorful bottles without any labels. Anne, now cautious, sniffed each drink before taking tentative sips through a straw, ensuring there was no alcohol.
Willard lit a cigarette, holding it between his lips as he flipped lamb skewers and sprinkled them with cumin.
Watching her overly careful behavior, he chuckled. "Drunk or sober, you're on my turf. If I wanted to do something, could you really stop me?"
Anne froze. She suddenly realized their wager lacked crucial details.
"Willard, when you said 'falling for you'—that means no inappropriate behavior beforehand, right? We're clear on that?"
Willard handed her a perfectly grilled skewer, removed his cigarette to tap off the ash, and glanced at her with deliberate mischief. "Wrong."
Anne bit aggressively into the lamb, then couldn't help exclaiming, "This is actually delicious."
Willard burst into genuine laughter—not his usual controlled chuckle, but deep, shoulder-shaking mirth.
In all the years Anne had known him, she'd never seen him laugh like this. Even in their youth, his happiest moments had only produced confident grins or knowing smiles. He rarely showed such authentic emotion.
Willard arranged chicken wings on the grill, brushed them with oil, and let them cook. As he turned to extinguish his cigarette, his gaze fell on her face.
Seeing her staring at him without blinking, he smirked. "Falling for me already?"
Anne rolled her eyes dramatically and returned to her skewer.
Willard casually grabbed a blue bottle and took a long drink. Anne, choking slightly on her food, looked up for water just as she caught sight of his throat working and the clean line of his jaw.
The beach setting was adorned with colorful lights, and string lights wound through the surrounding trees. Before them, the ocean's surface danced gently in the breeze, reflecting the brilliant starry sky.
The entire atmosphere was crafted for romance—dim lighting around a crackling fire, the intimacy of nightfall perfect for breeding desire.
Anne noticed the colored "drinks" were making her feel increasingly warm and lightheaded, despite having no alcoholic taste whatsoever.
But growing suspicious now was pointless—everything here was clearly Willard's orchestration. After all, he'd wagered on winning her heart; he wouldn't rely on words alone.
Unfortunately for him, if this had been a few years ago when she was younger and still harbored hope and love for him, she might have been swept away by such theatrics.
Now, she found it all rather juvenile. She was almost embarrassed that no one was around to witness this display.
Willard set down his bottle and, while flipping the chicken wings, noticed her face scrunched in distaste. He could easily guess her thoughts.
If she didn't appreciate this approach, he'd try another.
Jerry and his team reached the cabin, but it was already empty. Signs of recent habitation were evident—they'd missed them by about a week.
"Mr. Myles, go any further and you won't be able to get back out."
They'd reached the border. Clearly, Willard had been heading international from the start, knowing Lyndon couldn't follow him abroad.
Lyndon's expression was thunderous. His cold, sharp gaze fixed on Jerry's casually amused face.
"I have a question."
"Please, ask away."
Lyndon stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his voice ice-cold and cutting. "Are you and Francis helping Willard?"
Jerry laughed outright. "What makes you say that?"
"Willard's no fool. If he managed to take Anne from your territory in Silverlight City, he must have prepared extensively. This preparation probably began long ago and accelerated once he learned I was Anne's family."
Lyndon caught the implication. "So you and Francis both anticipated Willard would take Anne and make thorough preparations, yet said nothing?"
Jerry leaned against the doorframe with lazy indifference. "I wouldn't know—Willard and I aren't close. As for Francis, I can't say. Lately he's been so wrapped up with his wife he won't even grab drinks with me anymore."
Lyndon didn't believe him but said nothing more. Willard taking Anne from under his nose was his failure. As a child, he'd been too young to protect them from harm. Now, despite wielding considerable power, he was still helpless—even forced to ask others for assistance.
Lyndon said, "Continue the international search. I'll provide domestic support."
Jerry shook his head. "I've been away too long. My wife misses me terribly, and my daughter... You wouldn't understand, Mr. Myles—you don't have a wife or daughter. You can't comprehend the urgency of returning home."
Lyndon found Jerry impossible to reason with and immediately called Francis, only to hang up before the call connected.
He didn't want Elissa worrying in her condition. Now he was truly caught between a rock and a hard place.
Jerry ignored him completely and departed with his team.
Simon, who had been following throughout, saw Lyndon showed no signs of leaving.
He approached. "Mr. Myles, international searches are complex operations. You should return to Silverlight City while I head back to Maple Valley to devise a new strategy."
Lyndon accompanied Simon back to Maple Valley. When Simon moved to message Francis, Lyndon tried to stop him.
But Simon had no intention of obeying Lyndon—he wasn't Francis, who showed Lyndon some deference. Someone would inform Francis regardless.
When Francis received the update, he merely glanced at it without taking any action or giving Simon instructions. He continued wielding his spatula, cooking for Elissa.
Jerry returned home and headed straight for the bathroom to wash away days of exhaustion. He sent no messages to Francis—none were necessary. Francis would anticipate everything.
"How did it go?" Hope followed him to the bathroom, not leaving even as he began undressing.
Jerry, having neglected his appearance for days, didn't embrace her immediately. Instead, he crossed his arms and regarded her with a mischievous grin.
"Miss me that much?"
Hope wasn't in the mood for games. "What exactly is Willard trying to accomplish?"
Honestly, Jerry didn't understand Willard. He'd never been interested in the drama between Willard and Anne. Unfortunately, Anne had become Elissa's sister, and Elissa was like family to Hope, forcing Jerry's involvement.
"Can I shower first, sweetheart?"
Hope was anxious but noticed the weariness in his eyes. She went to prepare food—well, to heat up soup that Madison had made.
When Jerry emerged from the bathroom, toweling his hair, the aroma of food greeted him. Hope quickly brought the soup to him.
Jerry raised an eyebrow. "This level of service is making me nervous, wife."
Hope gestured for him to sit, ladling a spoonful and blowing on it before offering it to him. Jerry drank it, then clicked his tongue. "I must be dreaming."
Hope shot him a reproachful look. "You make it sound like I never treat you well."
Jerry took the bowl from her and finished it in several gulps, then pulled her into his arms for a thorough kiss. They hadn't been intimate in days, and desire ignited quickly.
By the time Hope realized what was happening, she was already on the bed. She covered his mouth, gently pushing him back.
"Business first."
"This is my business." Jerry moved her hands above her head and began unbuttoning her shirt with his teeth.
"Jerry..." Hope's voice dissolved into fragments.
After several days apart, his movements were notably more intense. She couldn't withstand the overwhelming sensation, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes as passion consumed her.
Francis brought dinner to the table, then went to help Elissa from the bedroom. She insisted on walking herself, so he simply steadied her as she sat down.
Elissa picked up her fork and ate in silence—no arguments, no outbursts. This had been her demeanor since his return.
They maintained normal conversation, she ate her meals, attended her prenatal appointments. Her recent checkup had shown no problems, and he'd specifically asked about her psychological state. Everything appeared normal.
But this very normalcy terrified him.
"Can I eat if you keep staring at me like that?" Elissa served him some meat. "Eat up—you worked hard making all this food."
Francis rubbed his forehead, wrestling with his thoughts before speaking. "I have a general idea of Willard's location."
"He wouldn't go to Larson family properties or anything under his own name. Excluding places connected to Jerry, me, or the Armstrong family, the options for somewhere I can't easily trace—yet avoids Lyndon's reach—are quite limited..."
Elissa interrupted him. "So you're not unable to find them—you're unwilling to. But you promised me you'd bring my sister home."
Francis took a deep breath. "I did promise that. But once I identified the location and understood Willard's intentions, I chose not to intervene. I thought it best to let them resolve their relationship issues themselves.
"Continuing this uncertainty affects you too, and worrying isn't good for the baby—or more importantly, for your health. I don't want you facing any risks."
Elissa nodded without anger. "So my sister should bear the risks instead?"
Francis had many responses on the tip of his tongue but said none of them.
"Elissa, they need resolution—something we can't provide for them. Willard isn't ordinary; even Lyndon couldn't stop him. Forcibly keeping them apart would be futile."
Elissa hadn't argued or grown angry, but she'd identified the core problem. Initially, she'd believed Anne would be safe with Lyndon in Silverlight City, beyond Willard's reach.
Yet Willard had still managed to take Anne, even leaving the country specifically to thwart Lyndon. Such meticulous planning meant that even if Francis had anticipated it due to their history, Willard could equally predict Francis's thinking.
Their back-and-forth maneuvering was simply a waste of time.
Though displeased, she had to admit Francis's approach wasn't fundamentally wrong. Willard required definitive closure; otherwise, no matter what measures they took, he would continue pursuing Anne. They couldn't watch Anne constantly—she had her own career.
"Let's eat. I don't want to discuss this anymore—it's ruining my appetite. I won't interfere further. I'll simply watch how Anne and Willard reach their conclusion. But you must promise me Anne won't be harmed."
Francis immediately raised his hand in oath. "You have my word."
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