"Boss!" Logan Franklin knocked on the door of Hank Clegg's office. There was urgency and anxiety in his voice as if something momentous had just happened,"You asked me to investigate Talkington Family's youngest daughter."
Hank Clegg lifted his eyes from the desk, an acute, scrutinizing gaze fixed on Logan, "Speak."
Logan Franklin was always brisk and active, yet hearing his boss's cold command, he seemed to falter for a second.
"Boss... Have you seen the latest news report?" Instead of directly reporting the situation, he asked this question first.
Hank Clegg furrowed his brows, pressed somewhere on his desk, and immediately, a holographic news report was projected into the air between him and Logan.
On the TV, a beautiful female anchor was speaking urgently, "Breaking news, Flight IG9063 from our country to Paris lost contact around eight this morning while flying over the Atlantic Ocean. Our country has dispatched a search and rescue team to the area…"
Hank Clegg's steely gaze moved from the screen to Logan's face. He was searching Logan's eyes for the answer.
"She was on that flight?" His voice had no hint of concern or worry.
"Yes." Logan took a deep breath. The news that Victoria Talkington had been on the missing flight had filled him with grave concern since it involved the person his boss was investigating. He didn't know how his boss would react to the situation. Now, it seemed the incident might not be as serious as thought..
"Alright, I understand," Hank Clegg nodded, his voice still firm and calm. He instructed his subordinate, "You can step out."
Logan saluted and left. Hank Clegg stayed motionless, his gaze seemingly fixed on the news report.
The report presented maps, flight routes, and speculated about the event's development – every channel was discussing this incident.
He opened his phone, which was filled with missed calls and messages. He called one number back.
"Yes… I am aware… It could possibly be a terrorist attack… I'll keep a close eye on the situation…"
After calmly completing the call with headquarters and hanging up, he finally unclenched his fist.
In his palm, a broken password lock laid silently.
Victoria... Did you just flee like that?
Completely... vanished from this world?
The plane that disappeared over the Atlantic Ocean, along with its two hundred-plus passengers, was seemingly whisked into an unseen space, forever hidden from the world.
No.
Hank Clegg's hand clenched again—the broken edges of the password lock digging into his palm.
Victoria, without my permission, how could you break our promise and just leave?
He remembered that night, every minute, every second of their intimate union. He remembered her smooth skin and the feeling of her red lips on his. Every day and night after their separation, the memory gnawed and burned his heart.
The password lock was almost crushed in his grasp.
Victoria, without my permission, you can't leave!
...
Seven years later.
In a villa on the outskirts of Paris, France.
Six-year-old Michael was intently sketching a painting.
He was imitating a painting of water lilies.
In the picture, the ripples on the pond and the texture of the lily pads were clear and detailed; however, they gave off a dreamy and hazy effect when viewed as a whole.
Michael was swiftly penciling on a clean canvas, using the original painting as a reference.
In the gaming room, his older-by-five-minutes sister DuoDuo was playing a virtual fighting game on a large screen.
In the virtual world, she had just beaten a burly man twice her size.
A corner of the screen was flashing with the message in perfectly clear French, "You have defeated your opponent. During the battle, you maintained 60% physical strength, 90% agility, aimed at the opponent's vital parts 3 times, and successfully dodged the attack 18 times."
"Fantastic!" DuoDuo cheered, "My stats have increased again. I'll continue to work hard and beat my next opponent."
Victoria brought over a tray of freshly baked homemade cookies from the kitchen, walked towards her daughter with a big smile, "DuoDuo sweetheart, time for sweets. You need to eat to keep your strength."
DuoDuo smiles sweetly, "I'm not hungry at all, but I love everything you make, mommy. Just leave two cookies for me, give all the rest to my little brother."
"You are so considerate, sweetheart." Victoria smiled brightly, leaned down and shared a tender moment with DuoDuo before leaving two pieces of cookies and making her way towards the art studio.
Once Victoria turned around, DuoDuo swiftly picked up the cookies and threw them into the trash bin.
"Wow, the cookies mommy made are so delicious," she pretended to chew while patting her cheeks.
Victoria turned around and gave her daughter a big smile – DuoDuo always finished everything that she made, never wasting anything and always praising her cooking.
As she passed by the living room, the blonde, blue-eyed TV anchor on the screen was seriously reporting a piece of news, next to her was a picture of an oil painting of water lilies.
"Renowned painting from impressionist master Kai Malcolm – a depiction of water lilies vanished mysteriously last night from the Louvre in Paris. Currently, there are no new leads; the police has asked Interpol for assistance... There's been frequent theft of the famous paintings in recent years, and the public is outraged by the police's inability to solve these crimes."
Victoria shook her head as she continued to walk.
The thieves nowadays were way too audacious - they even dare to steal from the Louvre.
She walked leisurely into the art studio, saying to the fully engrossed Michael, "Michael sweetheart, I've made cookies for you. DuoDuo said they're very delicious, why don't you try?"
Michael paused for a moment, glancing at the objects on the plate that looked like slices of tire rubber. His eye twitched a bit. DuoDuo said it was delicious... of course, she would never miss a chance to play a trick on him.
"It seems mommy's cooking skills have improved again, shall we eat together?" Michael asked, his big sparkling eyes looking innocently at Victoria.
"Sure, Michael. We'll each take a bite." Victoria cheerfully handed Michael a charred piece of cookie. She looked at the painting on the easel and exclaimed, "Michael, you draw increasingly better with each day! Your artwork is even better than that painting by Kai Malcolm in the Louvre!"
The painting on the easel stayed silent, hanging there quietly.
If it could speak, it would certainly bellow: I am actually the original painting of Kai Malcolm's water lilies from the Louvre!