Chapter 8
Grayson rushed to the coast with the cash box in hand. The kidnapper finally let Madeline go after a long standoff.
On the way back, the car sped down the road. Madeline sat in the passenger seat, rubbing her wrist with a pout. “Grayson, those thugs were so rough… My wrist hurts like hell.”
“I was terrified. Can we get a little cake on the way home? To make it up to me?”
Grayson had one hand on the wheel, muttering a half–hearted “Sure,” but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
It wasn’t until the moment he saw Madeline rescued that the full weight of what he’d done hit him.
He’d broken Savannah’s leg. With his own hands. And left her there, like she was nothing.
That scatterbrained girl had never known how to take care of herself. With an injury like that… how much pain must she be in now?
As they neared a bakery, Grayson suddenly jerked the wheel and turned sharply toward the Whitaker estate. “We’ll head home first. I’ll
have the staff buy the cake.”
Madeline felt a twinge of doubt. Usually, once their “missing game” ended, Grayson would rush back and unleash hell on Savannah. But today, something felt off–like there was worry behind his silence.
She’d almost been dumped into the ocean. And Savannah? Just a broken leg. That was nothing.
Still, she didn’t dare push it. In front of Grayson, she had to keep up the sweet, innocent act. No point rocking the boat over something
so trivial.
The moment the car pulled into the estate, Grayson jumped out and sprinted into the yard, circling the house again and again–but Savannah was nowhere to be found.
“Where’s the housekeeper?!”
He shouted in the yard for a long time before it suddenly hit him: he’d already dismissed all the staff days ago.
Panic swelled in his chest. He grabbed his phone and dialed Savannah’s number–only to be met with a robotic voice.
“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
Like a man possessed, he redialed again. And again.
Twenty–eight times. Then his hand froze.
He remembered –Savannah had done this before. She’d called him twenty–eight times too. Back then, he found it irritating. Just wanted to teach her a lesson.
So this… this was what it felt like. To be ignored. Shut out. Forgotten.
Grayson’s head snapped up, a spark of clarity in his eyes. Savannah’s leg was broken. She had to see a doctor. If he combed through every hospital in Crestmoor Heights, he’d find her–he had to.
He immediately rang his assistant. “Pull every hospital record in the city. All of them. Don’t miss a single one!”
Just as he was about to leave, Madeline tugged gently on his sleeve. “Grayson… do you think maybe Savannah’s hiding on purpose? Maybe she’s mad I made it out alive.”
Normally, he’d explode at the mention of Savannah. Stay behind, comfort Madeline.
But this time, he barely spared her a glance “Don’t overthink it. That’s not it.”
“You stay home. I’m going out to look for her.”
That night, Crestmoor Heights was turned upside down.
Grayson personally combed through every hospital, demanding to see records. Claiming he was looking for his fiancée.
Chapter 8
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At one hospital, the director–an old friend of Savannah’s father–looked at him with thinly veiled disdain. Ever since Grayson’s new relationship had gone public, he hadn’t been welcome here.
“Didn’t you just announce your new girlfriend? She posted a status on the Whitaker Group homepage just this morning.”
The director crossed his arms, raising a brow. “And now you’re telling me you’ve got a fiancée?”
Grayson opened his mouth. Took a long time to force out, “I only have one fiancée. Savannah Langley. She’s… she’s just angry. That’s all. She’s avoiding me.”
The director let out a cold laugh, full of contempt. “Right. Then keep looking. She’s not here. Maybe next time don’t wait until she’s gone to start panicking. Shame on you, Mr. Whitaker.”
Grayson searched for three days straight. By the end, he returned to the estate, utterly defeated.
Madeline rushed out to meet him. “Did you find her?”
He collapsed on the couch, shaking his head in despair.
Ever since the Langley family felland Savannah moved in, she’d never been away this long.
She used to be so sweet. Even if she stepped out for a few hours, she’d call to check in. When he was too busy to spend time with her, she’d come home with little gifts, looking up at him with those bright, starry eyes and calling out “Gray!” with such joy.
Grayson rubbed his temples, anguish all over his face. When had she stopped calling him that?
Madeline watched his broken expression. Outwardly, she wore a mask of concern–but beneath it, triumph surged through her veins. If it weren’t for Savannah standing in her way, she’d have been Mrs. Whitaker already.
Good. Let her stay gone. Forever.
She crouched down beside him, gently patting his hand. “Grayson, don’t worry. She’s probably just really mad this time. That’s why
she’s staying hidden.”
“But… there might be a way to lure her out.”
Grayson sat up straight, like he’d just found a lifeline. “What way? Tell me!”
“Marry me. Throw a big wedding. Post the license on the Whitaker Group homepage.”
Madeline’s eyes sparkled with calculation. “If Savannah sees it, she’ll definitely be jealous. She won’t be able to help herself—she’ll show up.”
The more she spoke, the more perfect the plan sounded.
Once the wedding happened publicly, the marriage license out in the open–even if Savannah came back, Madeline would have a reason
to stay.
She’d be the legally recognized Mrs. Whitaker.
