NovelTrueChapter 1119 Lise pulling a stunt like this would not have shocked her. Even Alethea, with her sharp edges, might have made sense. But Jacob and Kelsey? The thought made her stomach twist.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtHer own family, willing to gamble her life for their gain-staging a crisis just to swoop in as saviors? The idea felt like a blade.
Jacob caught the cold glint in her eyes, reading her suspicion as clearly as if she had spoken it aloud.
He let out a soft laugh, his posture relaxed despite the tension. "Yes, I sent them," he admitted, his voice calm as he spread his hands. "Their boss tippedoff about the situation. I was not certain of the details, so I covered my bases. While I headed to the station, I asked their people to look into it. All I told them was to confirm Ms. Campbell's whereabouts and safety. Nothing more." Before Reece or the team leader could respond, a junior officer jumped in, his words tumbling out. "That is what they said, sir. At first, they were tight-lipped, but when we mentioned charges like kidnapping or assault-serious time-they panicked. They swore they only took money to check on Ms. Campbell's wellbeing." Jacob's face softened with regret, his hand brushing through his hair. "My apologies for the confusion," he said earnestly. "Age is catching up with me, and my memory is not what it used to be. In my rush to get the information to you, I forgot to mention I had sent people out." A young officer inclined his head toward Reece and the team leader, his voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. "Those men claimed they were only there to observe. No word of orders from Mr. Dury. We searched them— nothing on them suggests foul play. Just a pair of washed-up drunks, their bodies wrecked from years of booze, cards, and bad choices. They do not strikeas the sort capable of harming anyone." Reece's icy demeanor thawed, his jaw loosening as he processed the officer's words. Earlier, he had held back from pressing Jacob too hard, wary of tipping his hand. An apology now would only stir unease.
Trust was a fragile thing, he mused, and Jacob was no fool. He played his cards close. Men of their caliber thrived on subtlety, masking intentions behind practiced facades.
Your imagination takes flight on gVlHe shifted his gaze, letting it fall on Carrie, who nestled against him, her warmth a quiet anchor. "Tfor a check-up," he murmured, his voice soft as a whisper of wind. "The police will handle the rest.” The team leader straightened. "Mr. Morrison, Ms. Campbell, you have our word. We will leave no stone unturned to find the true culprit and unravel this mess. An attack like this in Isonridge? It threatens our people and defies our duty." Reece offered a nod, his arm steadying Carrie as they stepped forward. "We trust the police to get it done,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of conviction.
To others, such words might ring hollow, mere pleasantries exchanged in passing. But from the Morrison family, they held power.
The Music Association was no mere cultural group; it was a force, woven into Mothor's fabric, tasked with nurturing art's growth.
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