Georgia’s POV
"That, we don’t know," Oliver said, his voice steady but sharp. "I filed for their extradition, and it got approved. They were supposed to be deported back here... but before the transfer, they vanished. No trace—just left most of their belongings behind like they fled in a hurry."
The room seed to shrink as his words sank in.
"Then," Oliver continued, turning his gaze to , "Georgia received a note from Irene at the hospital. When we checked the CCTVs, we confird she’s back in the country. But there’s still no footage of Frank—only that woman Irene called her cousin."
Nick’s jaw tightened, and I felt my heart race as Oliver pulled out his phone and played a short clip and showed it to Vernon. "The sa woman was later seen in another video," he said grimly. "She was the driver of the getaway car that the arson suspects used the night Georgia’s house was set on fire. The sa group that attacked her housekeeper."
The air went cold. Even the sound of my own breathing felt too loud.
"So," Oliver added, his tone now hard as steel, "I think it’s us who should be asking you about Frank and Irene, Vernon."
The way he said it sent chills down my spine. There was authority in his tone, the kind that made understand exactly why he was one of the best in his field. I couldn’t help but stare, utterly impressed—and when I glanced at Vicky, I nearly laughed. She was completely enchanted by Oliver, staring at him as if he had just stepped out of a movie scene.
"I-I don’t know anything," Vernon stamred, his palms visibly sweating. "The last ti I talked to them together was before they left the country. Frank told Irene was pregnant... and that they wanted to raise their baby abroad. They said their boss promised them so money, so they’d be fine. They will use that money to start their life overseas. I didn’t ask much, I was just happy that they get to do what they really wanted."
"Promised money?" I echoed, my brows furrowing. "From their boss? I was their boss—and I never promised them anything."
"No," Vernon said quickly, shaking his head. "Not you. The owner of the manpower agency they used to work for before the left the country. Frank told their boss promised them money for a long ti. Apparently, the company couldn’t pay before, but he promised to settle it once business picked up."
I drew in a deep breath, pressing my fingers to my temple as a dull ache began to throb there. Pieces of the puzzle were finally appearing—but they weren’t fitting together yet. And that was what terrified the most. "That man is my brother, Vernon, and he is no longer their boss. It was ."
"Did they ever tell you why they were promised that money?" Oliver asked, his tone edged with suspicion.
Vernon shook his head. "No. Like I said, I didn’t pry. I figured it was just so kind of bonus—maybe a reward for loyalty or hard work. Nothing suspicious."
Nick leaned back slightly, his jaw tight, while I exhaled slowly, feeling my pulse quicken. "Frank and Irene didn’t receive any bonus," I said, my voice steady but heavy. "When I left for a trip, our company’s finances were finally stabilizing, still had debts but it was slowly picking.
But when I ca back, everything was gone—the entire company fund wiped out. At the sa ti, Frank and Irene disappeared. Later, we found out the money was transferred into their accounts."
Oliver nodded, taking ntal notes. "That lines up with the tiline we traced," he said.
Vernon’s brows knitted. "Why don’t we just ask your brother then? Maybe he knows what’s going on."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Nick was the one who broke it. "Her brother, David Lewis, is dead," he said, his voice cold and sharp as a blade. "And I was the one they frad for his murder."
Vernon froze, his face draining of color. "No... no way." He covered his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is insane. Frank never ntioned anything like that! He always talked about ’his boss’—that he was following orders, that he couldn’t talk much because of it. I thought it was just work-related, not... this."
"My brother was murdered three years ago," I said quietly, my throat tightening as I t Vernon’s eyes. "And whoever his so-called ’boss’ was—it wasn’t nor my brother."
The room fell silent again. The air felt thick, like the calm before a storm. I saw the truth flicker in Vernon’s eyes—the realization that the people he thought were family might be tangled in sothing far darker than he ever imagined.
"No way, then, who’s this ’boss’ Frank kept ntioning?" Vernon blurted, and for a heartbeat the room went electric as we all traded those quick, searching looks—each of us trying to pluck an answer from the charged air.
"We don’t know," Oliver said bluntly, his voice cutting through the tension. Then he leaned forward, eyes sharp. "The case is filed. Will you testify?"
Vernon’s face twisted with sothing like guilt and fear. "Yes—I will. Irene looked terrified, stressed, or anxious the last ti I saw her. She told it was morning sickness, so I didn’t press, but now... I think they were involved in sothing. I want them found. Irene’s carrying my niece or nephew. I need to know she’s safe."
Oliver nodded, folding the papers like a man who’d already rehearsed the next move. "Good. Then we go to the station now. But be aware—by leaving this building, you may be putting yourself in danger. Do you accept that risk?"
Vernon swallowed so hard I could see it. "I—my wife and daughter are back ho—" he began, the worry breaking through.
Nick cut him off, voice low and steady, the kind that commands rooms and calms storms. "We’ll keep you safe. Security detail, safe house—whatever it takes. If it helps, I can offer you a job here while this is going on."
Relief washed over Vernon like rain. He exhaled and nodded, grip steady now. "Alright. I’ll testify, as long as you guarantee my family’s safety."
Nick’s smile was all slow confidence and quiet victory—one of those smiles that says the problem’s already half-solved. "Consider it done."
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