Meanwhile, after finding out that Camilla and Jonathan had escaped, Victor Holloway sat in silence, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The air in the room was thick with tension, his men standing motionless, waiting for his reaction. A single drop of blood trickled from his palm where a shard of broken glass had cut him, but he didn't seem to notice.
They had scoured every corridor, checked every locked chamber, but there was nothing. No signs of forced exit, no trails to follow—just emptiness where his prisoners had once been.
A man hesitantly stepped forward, swallowing hard. "Sir… we've searched everywhere. There's no trace of them."
Victor exhaled slowly, an eerie calm settling over him. No trace? That was impossible. No one escaped him. No one.
His jaw clenched, and he rose to his feet, his presence alone commanding silence. "Then we stop looking."
His men exchanged uneasy glances. That wasn't the reaction they had expected.
Victor poured himself a drink, swirling the liquid thoughtfully. "If there's no trail, that means they didn't leave one. Which means they planned this long before today." He took a slow sip, his gaze darkening. "Let them believe they're safe. The moment they slip up…" He placed the glass down with a soft clink. "We'll be waiting."
He turned his back to the room, signaling the discussion was over. There was no need for rage. No need for reckless searching. Because no matter how far they ran, Camilla and Jonathan belonged to him.
And one day, they would learn—no one escaped Victor Holloway forever.
Victor sat in his dimly lit office, fingers drumming against the polished wood of his desk. His men had searched everywhere, yet Camilla and Jonathan had vanished without a trace. He knew they couldn't have simply disappeared—someone was hiding them.
Then, a soft chime broke the silence. A message flashed across his private line.
"Camilla is at the Smith estate."
Victor's eyes narrowed. His grip on the phone tightened as he reread the words, his mind already working through the implications. Why would she return there? Did she believe Harlond Smith's wealth and influence could shield her?
A slow, calculating smile crept onto his face.
"Interesting choice, Camilla," he murmured. "Let's see how long you can keep up this little game."
Without hesitation, he reached for the intercom. "Get me everything on the Smith estate's security. If Camilla thinks she's safe, she's dead wrong."
Victor leaned back in his chair, reading the message again. Camilla was at the Smith estate. He hadn't expected her to return there so openly, especially not after disappearing without a trace. But something about it felt off.
Meanwhile, at the Smith estate, Camilla sat across from Harlond in his private study. Her expression was carefully composed, though she knew she had to tread lightly.
"I need extra security around the estate," she said smoothly. "Victor Holloway is targeting me. He's been pestering me, and I think I'm not safe."
Harlond's jaw tightened. His grip on the armrest of his chair hardened as he processed her words.
"Victor," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation. "That man never knows when to quit."
Camilla nodded. "If he finds me again, I don't know what he'll do. And given how much he already knows..." She let the sentence trail off, watching Harlond's reaction.
His fist clenched. Victor had been useful in the past, but a man who knew too much was a liability—one he could no longer afford.
Harlond exhaled sharply and stood. "Fine. You'll have the security you need. But hear me, Camilla—when Victor finds you again, I want him eliminated. Permanently."
Camilla masked her satisfaction, nodding solemnly. "Understood."
Victor, however, was no fool. He wouldn't strike recklessly, not without being certain. As he studied the message, a slow smirk formed.
Little did Victor know, no matter how careful he was, he was already doomed.
While he sat in his dimly lit office, strategizing his next move, pieces were already shifting against him. Camilla had set the bait, and Harlond had taken it. His order to eliminate Victor wasn't just a reaction—it was a warning. The walls around Victor Holloway were closing in, and he didn't even realize it yet.
Jillian, Dante, and Leo were working in the shadows, piecing together the web of deceit that bound Victor and Harlond. Every step he took to secure his power only tightened the noose around his neck.
And when the final moment came, he wouldn't even see it coming.
Meanwhile, Camilla stayed close to Harlond, playing the role of the vulnerable woman in need of protection. She wasn't foolish enough to believe she was truly safe, but for now, she had bought herself time.
Across town, Jillian was deep in her investigation, unaware that Victor was already adjusting his strategy. He might be hunted—but a cornered predator was always the most dangerous.
Victor's fingers tapped against his desk as he read over his last message, his jaw tightening. The Smith estate was locked down, Camilla was hiding behind Harlond, and worst of all, Jillian was still digging.
He needed to strike first.
Victor didn't waste time. He called for his most trusted enforcers, men who knew how to move unseen. "Find me a weakness," he ordered. "I don't care if it's in Harlond's defenses, Jillian's little operation, or Camilla herself. There's always a way in."
Meanwhile, at the Smith estate, Camilla played her part well. She stayed near Harlond, feeding him just enough fear to keep him distracted. But she also knew Victor too well. He wasn't the type to sit still.
Her instincts were right.
That night, as the estate settled into silence, a shadow slipped through the perimeter. Someone had come for her. But was it a rescue—or an execution?
That night, as the Smith estate settled into uneasy silence, a storm was already brewing. Victor Holloway had run out of patience.
Without warning, chaos erupted at the outer perimeter of the estate. Explosions shattered the night, and gunfire rang out as Victor's men launched a full-scale attack. Security scrambled to respond, but Victor had planned this carefully. He didn't come for negotiations—he came for Camilla.
Inside, Camilla jolted awake to the sound of alarms. Her heart pounded as she rushed to her window, her breath catching at the sight of flames licking the far gates. The estate's guards were already engaged in battle, but Victor's forces were relentless.
A sharp knock on her door made her whirl around. One of Harlond's men burst in. "Ma'am, we need to move now!"
Camilla hesitated only a second before grabbing the small emergency bag she had prepared days ago. She had expected Victor to retaliate—but not like this.
As she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, another explosion rocked the ground beneath her. The air smelled of smoke and gunpowder.
Harlond himself stood at the main hall, barking orders to his guards. His face was carved with fury. "Find Holloway! I want his head delivered to me before the night is over!"
Camilla swallowed. This was spiraling faster than she had imagined.
Somewhere in the distance, a voice on a radio crackled: "They're breaching the west wing!"
Victor was inside.
She had only moments to escape before he found her.