Chapter 522 Albert is Here
The helicopter landed on the beach, and before it had fully settled, Albert leaped from the aircraft.
He ran without pause toward his destination, following Clifford's directions precisely, yet all he could see was endless ocean and darkness stretching before him.
The small island lay deserted, silent except for the rhythmic crash of waves against rocks, the howling wind, and his own thundering heartbeat.
Albert searched desperately for that familiar figure, but found only vast emptiness.
Dread crept through him like rising tide, threatening to drown his resolve.
Vincent, who had been fighting nausea throughout the flight, finally managed to suppress the churning in his stomach and caught up with Albert. The sea breeze helped clear his head somewhat.
"Mr. Valdemar, should we split up to search?" Vincent asked, his voice uncertain.
When they'd received Clifford's call, they had immediately traced the exact location of the transmission. Albert had landed at the most precise coordinates possible.
Suddenly, he realized he had let another opportunity to rescue Yvette slip away. Self-recrimination ate at him like acid.
"I should have answered Clifford's call sooner," Albert said, his voice raw with anguish.
Had he taken the call earlier, he wouldn't have wasted precious time on David. Though the children's disappearance had alarmed him, they called David "Daddy"—he wouldn't harm them. But Yvette was different. She was in the hands of the Hayes family.
If not for that voice calling "Albert" before the line went dead, he might still believe Yvette's fate remained unknown.
Albert's memory conjured her smile, her eyes, her voice—everything crystal clear as if it were yesterday. Yet he had arrived too late.
Staring at the empty shoreline, Albert clenched his fists as regret and self-blame consumed him.
"Find them," Albert commanded, drawing a steadying breath. "Whatever the cost, we must find them."
Vincent hesitated before responding. "I'll investigate the Hayes family."
"Do it," Albert replied, his voice betraying the slightest tremor.
The hospital lights cast a dim glow throughout the corridors.
Yvette lay motionless on the hospital bed, her face pale as porcelain, eyes closed. An IV line tethered her left hand, transparent fluid dripping steadily into her veins like liquid hope being fed into her weakened body.
Just beyond the thin wall, Felix and Gabrielle waited in mounting anxiety.
"When will Albert arrive?" Gabrielle whispered, her unease evident as she watched Felix.
Felix glanced at his watch, struggling to mask his own tension. "Soon, I hope."
"Are we really going to hand Yvette over to Albert?" Gabrielle's eyes reddened with unshed tears. "What if he takes her but refuses to lift the kill order on Violet? What if Violet gets out but won't give us the medicine?"
Her anxiety proved contagious, deepening Felix's own unrest. His brow furrowed with frustration.
"What choice do we have?" Felix's breathing quickened. "Clifford collapsed again—he's deteriorating by the day! If we don't surrender Yvette, how else can we save him?"
Felix's words silenced Gabrielle completely. She understood their position all too well—they were trapped, forced to dance to Albert's tune for any chance of saving Clifford.
Their phones buzzed simultaneously with a message from their assistant.
Felix's body tensed as he met Gabrielle's gaze, his expression grave. "Albert's here."
Felix and Gabrielle sat rigidly on the sofa, their nerves stretched taut as they glanced repeatedly toward the entrance, anticipating his arrival.
The door lock clicked, and footsteps approached.
Felix and Gabrielle exchanged a tense look before rising to greet their visitor.
They watched Albert's approach with careful attention, noting something unusual about his gait. Though Albert moved with a slight limp, his stride still commanded authority. His complexion appeared wan, but his eyes remained razor-sharp, radiating unwavering determination.
"Mr. Valdemar, what happened to your leg?" Gabrielle asked instinctively.
Albert's gaze lifted, his tone dismissive. "Minor injury. Won't interfere with finding Yvette."
Felix shot his wife a warning glare before addressing Albert. "My apologies, Mr. Valdemar. My wife spoke out of turn. Since you're injured, please, have a seat so we can discuss matters properly."
Albert remained standing. "Where is Yvette?"
"Inside," Felix indicated the hospital room. "Before you see your wife, we need to clarify our arrangement."
Albert raised an eyebrow slightly. "Make it brief."
"It's quite simple, really." Felix drew a deep breath. "We agreed that upon returning Ms. Orlando to you, you would lift the kill order on Violet. Once you fulfill that promise..."
Felix opened his palm, revealing a key. "You may unlock your wife's door."
Albert's laugh held no warmth. "Since I'm here, do you honestly think you can stop me?"
Felix pressed his lips together, unsurprised by the response. "There are nurses inside."
The implication hung unspoken—if Albert took Yvette by force without lifting Violet's kill order, both sides would suffer.
Albert studied Felix and Gabrielle with calculating eyes. "I'll have it handled."
Felix nodded and solemnly placed the key in Albert's palm.
Through the haze of semiconsciousness, Yvette gradually awakened.
The cool sensation of IV fluid flowing into her veins brought her fully alert. She opened her eyes slowly, her expression serene—she had seemingly accepted her recapture by Felix.
On the boat, Yvette had been powerless to resist. Jumping into the ocean would have meant certain death.
Perhaps because she had stopped fighting, the exhaustion she'd been holding at bay finally claimed her, and she had collapsed.
Despair flooded her heart as she wondered if she would ever see Albert again. The hopelessness felt like a blade twisting in her chest, and tears slipped silently down her cheeks, dampening both pillow and spirit.
Suddenly, the hospital room door opened with barely a whisper.
Yvette instinctively looked toward the entrance.
The figure silhouetted in the doorway was backlit by corridor lights, features obscured yet unmistakably familiar—a presence that struck her despairing heart like lightning.
Albert had come.
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