Driving through a torrential downpour with highway speed limits in effect, icy raindrops hammered against the car windows as if trying to shatter the glass. The night road ahead was a chaotic blur, completely swallowed by a boundless abyss.
Linden didn’t dare breathe too loudly. His nerves were stretched to the breaking point, making him feel as though he were driving along the borders of Purgatory. Subconsciously, he kept glancing at the man in the backseat through the rearview mirror.
Simon Hawthorne sat submerged in the gloom, gripping his phone. Only the faint glow of the screen illuminated half of his face, catching a cold glint on his glasses. The emotions in his eyes were entirely unreadable. However, his tightly pressed lips alone exuded a terrifying aura, like the cold steel of a blade pressed flush against one’s throat.
The silence in the car was chilling and oppressive.
Having been by Mr. Hawthorne’s side for so many years, Linden had seen him navigate countless crises. The man was known for remaining entirely unfazed; even if the sky were falling, he wouldn’t bat an eyelash as he calmly and ruthlessly resolved the most lethal of troubles. But now, he was actually displaying outward emotion—anger, disbelief, astonishment, and the faintest trace of panic.
Linden wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead, recalling a maid’s earlier gossip. "Ma’am left a divorce agreement and ran away from home! Mr. Hawthorne will definitely sign it, won’t he? This marriage is completely over!"
Linden didn’t think so. In fact, he highly doubted it. Mr. Hawthorne’s feelings for Zoe Lancaster were far too complex. Over the past two days, the drama surrounding his old flame had been dragged into the spotlight. Outsiders gossiped that Mr. Hawthorne didn’t love his wife at all, but none of them knew the truth—nobody knew what extreme measures he had taken years ago just to come back and marry her.
By the time they rushed back from Atheria to Kingsford, it was already 3:30 AM. Between the speed limits and a massive multi-car pileup, traffic had been gridlocked for a significant stretch. If it weren’t for Linden’s superb driving skills, they would have crashed when the vehicle in front of them suddenly hydroplaned across the lanes. Yet despite the harrowing near-miss, Simon had refused to delay their journey for even a single second.
The car finally lurched to a halt at Somerset Gardens.
It was pouring in Kingsford, too, the relentless night rain falling like millions of icy silver needles. Linden grabbed an umbrella and practically vaulted out of the driver’s seat, but the man in the back refused to wait. Simon shoved his door open, his long legs striding directly into the torrential downpour as his towering figure vanished into the rain.
Zoe’s sudden disappearance had thrown the entirety of Somerset Gardens into a panic. The servants waited anxiously in the main hall. When Simon stormed through the doors, rainwater dripped from his dark hair, accentuating the lightless, icy void in his eyes. A suffocating, violent fury radiated from him—a wrath so palpable everyone in the room felt it. Ignoring the trembling staff, he headed straight for the master bedroom.
Zoe had always loved looking her best and took her skincare routine very seriously. Because of this, he had previously ordered a massive vanity table for her. Usually, it was cluttered with her endless bottles, jars, and cosmetics. On the rare evenings he came home early, he would often find her sitting there, meticulously dabbing various creams onto different parts of her face. At first, he had thought women’s routines were absurdly tedious—a whole hour just for nighttime skincare! But eventually, he realized that watching her sit there and fuss over her products gave him a rare sense of peace. It was a comforting realization that they had truly merged into each other’s private lives and personal spaces.
But now, the moment he stepped into the room, he saw the vanity table had been completely cleared off. His heart inexplicably plummeted, sinking so deeply that his breath caught in his throat.
He ripped open the walk-in closet. Most of her clothes and designer bags were still there—all the things he had bought for her. She hadn’t cared for a single one of them. It was as if she couldn’t wait to sever all ties with him, refusing to waste even a fraction of her energy fighting over these material possessions.
Zoe had truly left. There had been no warning signs, no strange behavior—nothing.
A biting cold flooded his chest, intertwining with an uncontrollable rage that darkened his expression to a frightening degree. He gripped the closet door handle so hard his knuckles turned stark white. When Linden reached the top of the stairs and saw this scene, his heart leaped into his throat. For a second, he thought Mr. Hawthorne was going to shatter the wooden door to splinters.
Finally, Simon’s frostbitten voice echoed through the room. "When did you realize she was gone?"
A maid waiting by the door looked panic-stricken. "Around 7:30 PM, sir. I brought up a bowl of bird’s nest soup for Ma’am, but she was already gone..." She hesitated for a moment before pulling a piece of paper from behind her back and gingerly handing it over. "This is what Ma’am left behind..."
Simon lowered his gaze. Taking the paper, his eyes instantly locked onto the bold letters at the top of the page: Divorce Agreement. In the bottom right corner was her elegant signature. He never expected Zoe to act with such absolute decisiveness. She was truly ruthless!
Simon crushed the divorce agreement in his fist. He didn’t even bother reading the terms of the contract. He merely stared at her signature until the paper was severely crumpled, then expressionlessly took off his glasses.
"Find out exactly where she is. Now." He hadn’t permitted her to leave his side, which meant she would never escape his grasp!
Linden nodded immediately. "Right away, Mr. Hawthorne!"
The maid watched the tense exchange. She knew how deep the treacherous waters of wealthy families ran, but she genuinely liked Zoe. She could completely understand why she would ask for a divorce. Yet, seeing Mr. Hawthorne in such a monstrous rage made the maid feel terribly guilty. Was it possible that Zoe left because the staff had accidentally let slip about Mr. Hawthorne and Miss Joyce the other day?
"Do you have something to say?"
The cold, piercing voice snapped the maid out of her daze. She jerked her head up, meeting Simon’s bottomless, dark eyes, and the blood drained completely from her face. "I... I..."
Simon’s patience evaporated. A dark, murderous storm brewed in his eyes, looking far more terrifying than the tempest raging outside the window. "If anything happens to her, every single one of you will be held responsible. You’d best think very carefully about the consequences of hiding anything from me!"
The maid’s knees gave out, her psychological defenses completely shattering. She began to cry, begging frantically, "I’m sorry, Mr. Hawthorne! It... it was us! We were gossiping privately about how Miss Joyce went into your room that day and ordered us not to come upstairs or disturb you... and Ma’am accidentally overheard us. She probably... she probably assumed the worst and..."
The maid was genuinely terrified. By saying those things, hadn’t they just destroyed a marriage?
Simon froze. Memories of that day flashed rapidly through his mind, along with the furious accusations Jules Yates had hurled at him during their physical altercation. So that was it.
He dragged in a harsh breath, his chest heaving violently against the oppressive weight crushing his lungs. It felt as though his internal organs were being twisted into knots—a sickening sensation he couldn’t shake. If even the servants assumed something had happened between him and Peyton Joyce, what must Zoe have thought?
A loud ringing filled his ears. Looking absolutely livid, he pulled out his phone and repeatedly dialed her number, relentlessly calling even though he knew she wouldn’t answer. He aggressively crushed the divorce agreement in his hand until it was nothing but a ball of trash. But ultimately, all he got was an automated voice.
"Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently powered off—"
Simon squeezed his eyes shut. When he spoke again, his voice was deathly dark, his lips trembling slightly. "Linden, I don’t care if you have to search to the ends of the earth. Find her!"
Meanwhile, the night sky was thoroughly swallowed by the endless rain.
When Crystal Hayes rushed home, she found Zoe squatting on her front porch, surrounded by bags of luggage. Her thin, frail figure made her look exactly like a discarded stray cat.
In that single moment, Crystal had already decided exactly where she was going to bury Simon Hawthorne’s body. She immediately sprinted over and pulled Zoe into a fierce, heartbreaking hug. "Did he kick you out?"