Chapter 220 Missing!
Harper remained rooted to the spot, her gaze locked in disbelief. Finally managing to speak, she uttered a name through clenched teeth, "Amelia!"
The name dripped from her lips with a venomous intensity, every syllable laced with a deep-seated loathing. The sight of the woman who had caused the loss of her unborn child was a fierce blow—an unexpected and cruel intrusion into her life.
Amelia chuckled, her laughter grating as if dragged over gravel, the sound eerie in the stillness of the night. Her features hidden behind a wide-brimmed hat and a concealing mask, a shroud of mystery surrounded her presence.
Surprised by Harper's swift recognition, a hint of admiration touched her voice as she remarked, "Sharp eyes you've got, knowing me by just a glance."
Emotions surged within Harper, a tumultuous mix of anger, grief, and an unrelenting desire for retribution, her knuckles near translucent as she clenched her fists with fervor.
Facing Amelia, her voice trembled with restrained fury, "How dare you come here, to my face!"
A malevolent glint danced in Amelia's eyes, a chilling zeal infusing her tone as she sneered, "I had to make sure you learned your lesson."
Her words, coarse and unhinged, reverberated in the stillness, layering the encounter with a foreboding intensity.
In a tense moment, Harper cautiously fumbled in her bag for her pepper spray, attempting to buy time by redirecting Amelia's focus, "Amelia, the cops are on the hunt for you. Turn yourself in before things escalate!"
Amelia's eyes blazed with a fiery intensity, a cruel laughter spilling from her lips, "You're in for a ride to hell, bitch!"
Swift as a viper, she brandished her own can of spray, unleashing its contents towards Harper with vicious intent.
The acrid scent assaulted Harper's senses, prompting her to shield her nose and mouth, but the noxious fumes had already infiltrated her lungs, inducing a disorienting haze that sent her stumbling backward against the wall.
Panic seized her as she realized her pepper spray was mysteriously absent, its disappearance a mystery left unsolved amidst the chaos.
Struggling against the encroaching dizziness, Harper hurled her bag in a desperate bid to fend off Amelia, who sidestepped the feeble attempt with contemptuous ease. She surveyed Harper's faltering efforts with a cruel grin, taunting, "Resistance is futile."
The incapacitating potency of Amelia's spray began to take its toll, rendering Harper increasingly unsteady as her vision blurred and her movements grew sluggish.
Unaffected by her own weapon, thanks to a specially designed mask, Amelia watched with calculated indifference as Harper, now barely coherent, staggered towards the elevator, each step a battle against encroaching unconsciousness.
"Thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven..." Amelia counted down the time.
Harper's vision faltered as she staggered towards the elevator, her strength dwindling with each labored step. Collapsing to her knees, she strained to reach for the down button amidst the encroaching darkness.
With the doors parting before her, Harper crawled into the elevator, a Herculean effort in her weakened state. Fumbling for her phone in a desperate bid for salvation, she attempted to summon aid, only to be met with cruel illusions mocking her futile efforts.
In a haze of desperation, Harper's feeble attempts to rouse herself from the descending stupor mere gestures of impotence—slaps turning to gentle pats, and self-inflicted pain yielding to a crimson droplet drawn from her wrist.
In a final act of defiance before unconsciousness claimed her, Harper managed to press the number 1 button as the doors threatened to seal her fate within the descending chamber.
However, fate intervened in the form of a slender, haunting hand that pried the elevator doors ajar, a chilling harbinger of impending doom as Amelia's insidious countdown reached its ominous conclusion.
"Three! Two! One! Gotcha!"
Amelia laughed hoarsely, her voice grating and unpleasant.
Before losing consciousness, Harper wanted to scream, but she passed out before she could make a sound.
Meanwhile, in a sleek luxury car, Francis discovered a small item on the seat—an innocuous canister labeled "pepper spray." His expression darkened with a sudden realization of its purpose in Harper's hands.
As his phone stirred to life with a familiar caller ID flashing before him, Francis hesitated, his disbelief evident as he tentatively answered, his tone unwittingly soft, "Hey, what's going on?"
Was she actually calling him?
An unsettling silence greeted him, broken only by a jarring, inhuman laugh akin to a creature in torment, sending a shiver down his spine.Francis's features contorted with a mix of dread and denial, his eyes narrowing in fear and confusion as the call abruptly cut off, leaving him in chilling silence and ominous uncertainty.
"Turn around! Back to theapartment!" Francis barked at the driver, his face a thundercloud as he directed them toward Harper's complex. With a sharp gaze, he then turned to Victor. "Find Harper. Now!"
Victor, momentarily taken aback, sprang into action, flipping open his laptop and alerting the network team to hunt down Harper's whereabouts at lightning speed.
In what felt like a heartbeat, results flashed on the screen. Victor delivered the news with a grave expression, "Mrs. Getty's last signal pinged at Serenity Heights at 10:15 a.m. It's been radio silent since."
Their tech wizards could trace people, even if their phones were off. But this time, it seemed someone with serious hacking chops had zapped Harper's device into oblivion.
Francis's face darkened. "Get in touch with the crew tailing Amelia."
Victor dialed swiftly. Ever since Amelia vanished, Francis had his guys combing every nook and cranny, the latest lead pointing to a coastal spot.
Minutes later, Victor revealed, "Amelia's a no-show at the coast. She's probably swooped into Northfield."
Ice replaced the earlier storm in Francis's demeanor. "Amelia's snatched Harper. Get cracking, Victor."
As they pulled up at Serenity Heights, Francis wasted no time, storming into the building as the elevator doors glided open.
In the hallway, a beige purse lay abandoned, its contents scattered like leaves in the wind. Francis, usually unflappable, betrayed a hint of unease as his hands quivered imperceptibly.
For someone who's always played it cool, this was new territory—a flicker of panic in his eyes.
Soon, Victor joined him, sharing, "All the footage of Harper is gone. Cameras busted. Need time to fix."
Francis scowled, regaining his steely resolve. "Amelia must have a getaway car. Check all routes and cams nearby, now!"
Meanwhile, Harper drifted in a haze, lost in a nightmare-laden slumber. In her dreams, a blinding light flashed, figures looming in the shadows. She strained to focus, the outline slowly sharpening into familiarity.
Tears welled as she whispered through the haze, "Francis, it's you?"
The tall figure paused.
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