Chapter 176

Chapter 176

The waters off the eastern outskirts of Silverlight City were battered by three days and nights of torrential rain.

Gale-force winds whipped up waves several meters high, crashing mercilessly against the coastline, as if mourning this brutal catastrophe.

Over the gray, turbulent sea, rescue boats shuttled back and forth through the raging swells. Searchlight beams crisscrossed like a massive net, as if trying to dredge up even a sliver of a miracle from these unfathomable depths.

"Report! Two nautical miles southeast—male body recovered!"

The voice crackling over the radio jolted Scarlett, who'd been standing vigil on the deck.

"Hurry! Confirm the identity!" Sawyer grabbed the walkie-talkie, his voice painfully hoarse.

For three days, Scarlett had been standing there without sleep, insisting on waiting for an answer.

Minutes later, the rescue boat pulled up alongside the yacht.

A waterlogged corpse, bloated and pale, was hauled onto the deck.

Scarlett forced herself to move toward it. Each step felt like it drained every ounce of strength from her body.

"Scarlett..." Sawyer tried to stop her, but she gently pushed him aside.

"I need to see."

The body was turned over. The features were barely recognizable.

"It's not him!" It was Ulysses.

Scarlett finally collapsed to the ground, tears pouring down her face.

Ulysses's death marked the total collapse of the Bourbon family's vast empire.

This international conspiracy had finally come to an end.

But Scarlett felt no satisfaction from revenge.

The one person she most wanted to see was still missing.

"Keep searching! Expand the search radius!" Sawyer barked into the radio. "I want him found—alive or dead!"

The search continued day and night.

Sonar detection. Divers in the water. Helicopters circling low overhead. Every possible method was used.

But the vast ocean had swallowed everything whole.

On the seventh evening, the setting sun bled red across the sky, staining the water in bleak, glaring sorrow.

A rescue boat slowly approached the shoreline.

Several rescue team members disembarked, their expressions heavy. One carried a clear evidence bag.

"Mr. Adams, Ms. Savoy..." The rescue captain walked up to them, removed his cap, and spoke gravely. "We... did everything we could."

He handed Scarlett the evidence bag.

Inside was a black shirt, torn beyond recognition.

The fabric was riddled with slash marks. Large patches of blood remained shockingly vivid, even after being washed by seawater.

At the collar, an inconspicuous letter "G" was embroidered.

She had sewn it there herself.

"We found this on a reef about five nautical miles from where the incident occurred." The captain sighed. "Given the sea conditions at the time, and the fatal injuries Mr. Getty sustained before going overboard..."

He paused, glancing at Scarlett's paper-white face, swaying as if she might collapse, before forcing out the final words: "After consultation with the police and marine experts, the assessment is... Mr. Getty's chance of survival... is zero."

"No... that's impossible!" Scarlett clutched the evidence bag. "He can't be dead! Orla hasn't even called him Daddy yet. How could he die?"

"You're lying! You're all lying! He must be hiding somewhere! He's doing this on purpose!" Scarlett collapsed onto the sand, screaming in despair. "Thaddeus! Come out! You liar!"

"Come out and look at me... look at our children..."

But no matter how much she called, no matter how much she begged, all that answered her was the thundering roar of waves against rocks and the cruel mockery of the ocean wind.

He really wasn't coming back.

The first rays of dawn broke through thick clouds and spilled across Silverlight City's coastline.

Scarlett was still kneeling on the beach, clutching the bloodstained shirt tightly in her arms.

Her voice had gone hoarse from crying. Her eyes were swollen like walnuts. She looked like a statue.

Sawyer stood a short distance behind her, watching quietly, his eyes filled with unspeakable pain and sorrow.

Thaddeus might be dead, but he would live forever in Scarlett's heart.

That mountain of love—no one could ever surpass it.

The sunlight gradually grew harsh.

Scarlett stared at the sun rising slowly over the horizon.

Golden light fell across her face, but brought no warmth.

She looked at the sea that had swallowed his life, her mind replaying every moment they had shared.

From the quiet suffering of their marriage, to the despair when she'd been misunderstood. From the resolute determination when she'd fled, to the hostility when they'd met again.

She'd always thought she hated him.

Hated him to her very bones. Wanted to tear him apart.

But.

When he'd truly collapsed in front of her. When his warmth had drained away bit by bit in her arms. When, covered in wounds, he'd plunged into the abyss without hesitation for her sake...

The hard shell of hatred encasing her heart finally cracked.

In the deepest part of her soul lay a truth she'd deliberately avoided.

She loved him.

In fact, she had always loved him deeply.

Even though he'd hurt her. Even though an unbridgeable chasm lay between them. That love had never truly disappeared.

It had just been buried beneath too much misunderstanding, pain, and hatred.

And by the time she finally saw her own heart clearly, he was already gone forever.

This was heaven's cruelest punishment.

Punishment for her cowardice. Punishment for saying the opposite of what she meant. Punishment for not holding him tight while he was alive and for not telling him that she had forgiven him long ago.

"Scarlett." Sawyer walked over and handed her a tissue.

"It's morning." He looked at her pale, exhausted face, his voice low. "We... should go back."

"Go back?" Scarlett repeated the words in a hollow whisper, her eyes empty. "Go back where? Without him, where can I even go?"

"Back to where you belong. Ulysses is dead, but the Getty Group still stands. If they find out about Thaddeus... those vultures circling for their chance..." Sawyer looked at her, enunciating every word. "Scarlett, the Getty Group is in grave danger."

"That company was his life's work. It's the last card he left for you and the children."

"Only you can save it."

Scarlett trembled.

She couldn't fall apart.

She still had to raise Orla and Arthur. She had to make sure they knew what a great, devoted man their father had been.

She had to protect his empire for him.

Scarlett slowly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, all tears and weakness had been replaced by an edge as sharp and unyielding as ice.

She carefully folded the bloodstained shirt and tucked it close to her chest. Taking Sawyer's hand, she slowly rose to her feet.

In the distance, a line of black Maybachs stretched along the beach.

Aiden, along with the remaining executives from the Getty Group, had been waiting on the sand.

They watched Scarlett walk toward them, step by step, framed against the rising sun. Their eyes held complicated emotions.

Doubt. Scrutiny. But most of all—awe.

In this once-fragile woman, they now saw Thaddeus's shadow.

Scarlett stopped in front of them, her spine perfectly straight.

She surveyed the group, her voice cold and authoritative. "Notify the entire company. Call an emergency board meeting."

"From today onward, the Getty Group is under my control."