Chapter 636 Fake Death
Michael shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the bizarre thoughts and refocus on the meeting.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed. The screen displayed "Lakeside Haven Police Department," causing his brow to furrow.
"Mr. Russell, we found some belongings of Ms. Phillips by the shore. Preliminary assessment suggests it might be a suicide."
The phone slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor, the sound of the screen shattering piercing the quiet conference room. The executives exchanged worried glances, watching their usually composed CEO turn pale. Without even grabbing his suit jacket, he bolted out of the room.
At the beach, the twilight was punctuated by flashing police lights, and the caution tape fluttered in the salty breeze. Michael's car screeched to a halt on the sand, the tires grinding against the fine grains.
"Mr. Russell!" An officer hurried over. "We found this on the rocks."
It was a cream-colored canvas bag, one Michael instantly recognized as Celeste's favorite. The contents were neatly laid out on a waterproof sheet: a phone, a bank card, and a shell Celeste had once broken and painstakingly repaired.
"Is this all?" Michael's voice was chillingly cold.
"Yes, and..." The officer hesitated, "There are signs of a struggle on the rocks, and bloodstains."
Michael's fist slammed into the police car, the metal denting with a loud crash that made the surrounding officers step back in fear.
"That's bullshit!" His veins bulged on his forehead. "She wouldn't kill herself! Search the entire area! Turn the whole sea upside down if you have to!"
Three rescue boats crisscrossed the dark waters, their searchlights illuminating the sea like daylight. Michael stood knee-deep in the water, his expensive tailored pants soaked, but he didn't care.
"Mr. Russell, the tide is too strong," a subordinate reported nervously.
"Keep looking!" Michael grabbed the man's collar, his eyes bloodshot. "Find her, dead or alive! Do you understand?"
The waves lapped at his legs, reminiscent of that rainy night when Celeste stood drenched at his door, clutching a nearly lifeless stray cat. What had he said then? "It's filthy, throw it away."
But now, he'd give everything he owned to see her standing there, dirty and disheveled.
At three in the morning, Michael, drenched, stormed into Celeste's room. The police had already searched it, but he didn't trust them to find anything.
The vanity was neatly arranged with skincare products, and the closet was missing a few of her favorite outfits. Michael frantically opened every drawer, finding underwear, socks, and even a hidden diary.
"Lies, all lies," he muttered, flipping through the diary. The latest entry was dated yesterday. "Michael smiled at me today. If only it were real."
Her laptop was still on the desk, the browser history showing a search for "Lakeside Haven to Seaside City night train" two hours ago.
He slammed the laptop shut, a manic joy flashing in his eyes. "I knew it, you wouldn't dare..."
As dawn broke, Auris Group's entire security team was mobilized. Train stations, bus terminals, and airports were all under surveillance. Michael sat in the monitoring center, surrounded by twelve live feed screens.
"Pull up all hotel check-in records in Seaside City!"
"Track her last bank card transaction!"
"Contact the taxi companies, find a woman in a beige trench coat!"
Orders flew out, turning Lakeside Haven's transportation system upside down. An assistant cautiously offered him coffee, only for Michael to knock it away.
"If you can't find her, you're all fired!"
Coffee splattered across the screens, leaving an ugly stain. Michael suddenly remembered the last time Celeste made him coffee, her fingers bruised from an IV.
The next morning, the coroner delivered a DNA report. The blood on the rocks matched Celeste's toothbrush sample with 99.99% accuracy.
Michael tore the report to shreds. "It's fake! All of it!" He grabbed the coroner's shoulders. "She hates pain, she'd cry for hours over a paper cut. How could she..."
His voice choked off. Celeste did hate pain, but she had once taken seven stitches to her head without shedding a tear to protect him from a flying bottle.
A secretary rushed in. "Mr. Russell, a fisherman found this at the river mouth."
It was a mint-green hair tie. Michael's pupils contracted.
He had seen it on Celeste. It was hers, no doubt.
"Keep searching," his voice was suddenly hoarse. "Check every downstream river..."
Michael drove alone to the dock where the hair tie was found. In the salty sea breeze, he imagined Celeste standing on the rocks in a white dress, just like when they first met.
"Come back," he reached out to the empty air. "I told you to come back, do you hear me?"
The waves crashed against the shore, drowning his broken plea. His phone vibrated suddenly, a message from Zachary. "Michael, let it go. Celeste would be sad to see you like this."
Michael hurled his phone into the sea. Sad? How dare she be sad? How dare she just disappear?
At that moment, he only wanted to return to a place filled with Celeste's presence. He went back to her room, now littered with empty bottles.
He clutched Celeste's diary, filled with notes about him. The color of his tie on certain days, how many sugars he liked in his coffee, even the dishes he had complimented.
"Liar," Michael buried his face in the diary, his expensive suit crumpled. "You promised you'd always be with me."
The sea breeze lifted the curtains, brushing against the calendar on the wall. On the date Celeste left, a small heart was drawn, with a note beside it. "Michael, remember to buy a cake for your birthday. You can relax now, no one will bother you anymore."
Michael let out a beast-like roar, smashing the room to pieces. Amid the wreckage, he clung to the hair tie.
Outside, the rain poured down, lightning splitting the night sky. His phone suddenly lit up.
A voice message from an unknown number.
Michael's fingers trembled as he opened it. Celeste's gentle voice filled the empty study. "Michael, it's Celeste. I've undone George's hypnosis; he should have his memory back now. I know you always wanted to be with Emma, but love is about letting go, not possession. Please, let them go, and let yourself go too."
The message ended abruptly, and Michael's face darkened. He stood up suddenly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
