Chapter 151
"Ms. Johnson..."
The driver who'd been waiting rushed forward. Seeing how pale her face was, he reached out to steady her, concern in his voice.
Charlotte bit down hard, took a deep breath, and forced every emotion back down into the pit of her stomach. Her expression returned to its usual cold mask.
"Drive. Take me home."
"Yes, ma'am."
The black Bentley tore down the boulevard, quickly arriving back at Gold Valley District.
The house was quiet. Not a single sound. Maybe it was her mood affecting her perception, maybe something else—but the loneliness felt sharper than ever before.
Charlotte's fingers traced slowly along the back of the sofa. Memories of them together surfaced unbidden in her mind.
But before she could dwell on them, her personal phone buzzed insistently in her pocket.
She pulled it out. An encrypted, unknown number.
The instant she recognized it, Charlotte's pupils constricted. As she pressed the answer button, her other hand flew to her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard.
Soon, Richard's voice came through the phone—cold, with an edge of arrogance.
"Ms. Johnson, my patience has limits."
"Three days are almost up, and my account shows zero deposits. What, you think I won't touch your mother?"
Hearing his naked threat, Charlotte's eyes darkened, but she didn't panic. Instead, she engaged him while opening the laptop's tracking system. Countless lines of code flickered rapidly across the screen.
"I know the deadline's coming, but the amount is enormous. I need time."
"After all, you know as well as I do—moving that much money without raising red flags isn't easy."
As she finished speaking, a virtual signal point on the world map was jumping frantically across countries at an astonishing speed.
"That's your problem. What's it got to do with me?" Richard let out a cold laugh. "If you can't produce it, don't blame me for what happens to your mother."
At that moment, the tracking system flashed a red alert on her screen.
All her attempts had been blocked by his firewall. He'd even set up a counter-tracking program specifically designed to prevent Charlotte from finding his location.
"Don't waste your energy, Ms. Johnson. You think I don't know what you're doing?" Richard suddenly spoke, his tone mocking. "Playing these little games with me? You're way out of your league."
The moment he said that, Charlotte's fingers froze on the keyboard. Her expression grew grave.
She'd hoped to track Richard's location, but now...
A wave of deep helplessness washed over her, making her face darken.
But Charlotte quickly collected herself. If working in the shadows wouldn't work, she'd bring it to the negotiating table!
She closed the laptop and leaned back against the sofa, eyes narrowing.
"Richard, I can give you the money. But I have one condition."
"Oh?" Richard seemed intrigued by her sudden shift. "Let's hear it."
Charlotte didn't beat around the bush. She got straight to the point.
"Before I transfer anything, I need to speak with my mother. A phone call, or better yet, a video call."
"I have to confirm she's alive and unharmed."
"Otherwise, you won't see a single penny!"
Silence on the other end for a few seconds. Then Richard's tone turned ice-cold.
"Charlotte, are you trying to negotiate with me?"
"Let me tell you something—you're in no position to bargain!"
"If you don't pay up, then I'll—"
"Whether I'm in a position or not, you know damn well!" Charlotte's voice was steel, giving no ground. "Fifty million dollars isn't pocket change, even for you."
"You kidnapped my mother for money. If something happens to her, you'll never see that fifty million."
"All you have to do is let me see my mother, confirm she's safe, and I'll pay. That's fair."
Hearing Charlotte's demand, Richard seemed enraged. He let out a derisive laugh.
"Charlotte, I don't think you understand."
"I'm calling the shots here. You're nothing!"
"I'm giving you one final twenty-four hours. If the money's not in my account, you can start planning your mother's funeral!"
Click.
The line went dead.
Charlotte gripped her phone, her face dark as a storm cloud.
Just then, her phone chimed. A multimedia message.
The moment she saw the contents, Charlotte's heart skipped a beat.
It was a photograph. The background appeared to be a basement—rough concrete walls all around.
Victoria sat on a dilapidated metal bed, wearing a thin hospital gown. Her face was deathly pale, gaunt. She looked terrified.
Perhaps from shock, or something else—those eyes that were once so sharp now looked dull, filled with exhaustion and fear.
There was what looked like a bruise at the corner of her mouth, starkly visible.
And on the collar of the hospital gown—a small patch of dried blood!
She was hurt?!
The instant that thought formed, Charlotte's jaw clenched tight, fury flooding her eyes.
She gripped the phone so hard her knuckles went white, her body trembling with rage.
But she forced herself to stay calm. She studied the photo, searching for more details.
In the corner, there was a pile of discarded industrial parts with a blurry gear-like logo stamped on them.
The metal bed was old-fashioned, like hospital beds from the eighties or nineties!
Most importantly, at the very edge of the photo, there was a puddle on the floor. The water seemed to be reflecting a blue light—something unusual.
What was that? A warning light? Some kind of special equipment indicator?
These thoughts spinning through her mind, Charlotte quickly saved the photo while thinking.
Then her brain kicked into high gear, trying to piece these clues together.
Just as she was focused intently on the photograph, her other phone—the work one—rang.
Seeing her assistant Mireille's name appear, Charlotte pressed her lips together and answered.
"Ms. Johnson! Really bad!"
"The board secretary's office just sent out a notice—they said on orders from the highest level, they're suspending all your duties at the Langley Group and revoking all your access!"
In an instant, Charlotte's face went dark.
"Orders from the highest level? What does that mean? Did the entire board agree to this?"
"I don't know... I asked around, but everyone just keeps saying it came from the top..." Mireille sounded both frantic and furious.