Chapter 278: Chapter 278

Chapter 278

Sam Keystone pulled out the main desk drawer of his second-floor study in the French villa, dumping several heavy leather folders directly onto the wood. He grabbed his briefcase from the armchair beside the desk, turned it upside down, and shook it hard over the glass coffee table. White printing paper, empty yellow envelopes, and old receipts fell out in a messy pile, but the small black metallic flash drive was nowhere to be seen. He ran his right hand over his forehead, cursing loudly under his breath as he stared at the scattered documents.

That single drive held all his most dangerous secrets the real ledgers detailing his dirty business operations, records of paid-off officials, and footage of his worst past controversies that could ruin his reputation permanently if they ever saw the light of day. Losing it right before his major European investor gathering at the estate was a complete nightmare.

He had spent the last hour searching through every single suitcase in his master bedroom three times over. He had checked the pockets of every suit jacket he brought on his trip, ripped open the lining of his leather travel bags, and searched the back seat of his private car parked down in the estate driveway. The drive had simply vanished.

He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the heavy rain pouring down over the dark stone grounds of his French estate. He pressed his knuckles against his jaw, trying to trace his exact steps back to when he last touched the drive.

He had gone back to Monterey, California, for a short while to deal with sudden company business and police inquiries back home, leaving Madame Laroche in complete control of the estate and keeping Isabelle locked down in the subterranean cellar. He clearly remembered carrying that flash drive in his coat pocket during his final hours in California. He must have dropped it on the gravel at the private airfield, left it on his desk in his Monterey office, or let it slip between the seats during his flight back to France.

It never even crossed his mind that Isabelle could have taken it. She had been locked up in the basement in France for weeks, monitored by security guards every minute of the day while he was away in America. In his mind, she was just a trapped, helpless prisoner with zero access to his personal belongings. There was no way she could have touched his coat or entered his private study.

The heavy wooden office door clicked open, and Madame Laroche walked inside. She was dressed in her usual tailored gray blazer, her sharp heels clicking steadily against the polished hardwood floor. She closed the door behind her with a soft thud, resting her hands behind her back while Sam turned around from the window to face her.

"Monsieur Keystone," Laroche said, her voice carrying a calm, heavy French accent as she spoke in clear English. "I have just come up from the lower cellar wing. We completed the full search of the room, exactly as you ordered."

Sam stepped toward his desk, leaning his weight against the edge of the wood as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And? Did you find my flash drive?"

"No, we found nothing at all," Laroche said, shaking her head. "I took two guards inside the cell with me to make sure she could not move around or throw anything. We checked every single spot in that room. My guards turned the bed mattress upside down, shook out the heavy blankets, and inspected the iron frame top to bottom. I personally searched her clothing myself. I checked her jacket pockets, her shirt, her pants, her hair, and her boots. There is no drive on her body, and there is nothing hidden inside that room."

Sam frowned, his brows drawing tight as his voice rose in frustration. "Are you hundred percent sure, Laroche? Did you check the floorboards? What about behind the stone wall near the basin?"

"Monsieur, it is a basic subterranean stone cellar," Laroche replied smoothly, raising her chin. "The floor is solid stone and concrete. There are no loose boards or hollow spots in the wall. The room is completely empty except for her iron cot and the old washstand. I am telling you, your drive is not down in that basement."

Sam let out a long breath, pacing back and forth behind his desk while rubbing the back of his neck. "Then where the hell is it? I know for a fact I had it with me when I was back in California."

"You were rushing around like a madman when you were in Monterey," Laroche reminded him, her tone practical and unbothered by his temper. "You were dealing with police questions, media back home, and sudden travel plans. You most likely dropped it on the ground at the airfield over there, or it fell out of your coat inside your Monterey office building. Blaming the girl downstairs makes no sense.

She has been locked in that room under constant guard since we brought her to France weeks ago. She was sitting in that basement the entire time you were back in California. She had zero chance to take anything from you."

Sam stopped pacing, staring down at the floor as he digested her words. He hated the thought of his private files sitting on the ground somewhere back in California where a stranger could find them, but hearing Laroche’s report at least gave him one less immediate threat to worry about. If Isabelle didn't have the drive, then she had no proof of his past acts, and she was still just a powerless prisoner locked behind an iron door.

Laroche adjusted the gold watch on her wrist and continued speaking, her face turning serious. "Aside from your missing item, Monsieur Keystone, we cannot have any more chaotic scenes down in that lower wing. If she breaks any more items or gets injured down there, it becomes my direct problem to manage. I do not want doctors or medical staff coming in and out of the lower service wing while your high-profile business guests are arriving for the event this weekend. It creates unwanted noise and draws unnecessary eyes."

Sam rubbed his temples, feeling a sharp headache pounding behind his eyes. "Fine. Leave a basic plastic tray with bottled water and dry bread inside her cell. No glass pitchers, no metal utensils, nothing she can throw at the staff. Just double-bolt the door and make sure the guards check the electronic keypad lock at the top of the cellar stairs on every single shift. I don't want her making noise or causing trouble while I'm hosting people upstairs."

"Understood, Monsieur Keystone," Laroche said with a firm nod. "I will inform the night shift personally."

She turned around on her heels and walked out of the study, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind her.

Sam walked back over to the window, leaning his forehead against the cool glass as the rain slammed hard against the exterior wall. He reached into his pants pocket, pulled out his primary phone, and dialed Julian, his manager back in Monterey.

The line rang four times before Julian's voice picked up on the other end. "Boss. What's going on?"

"Julian, I want you to send two men back to the private airfield in Monterey right now," Sam ordered, his voice low and sharp. "Search the tarmac around hangar four, check the back seats of the black SUV we used for the airport run, and tear apart my private office desk back at the Monterey building. Something extremely important fell out of my coat before I flew back to France."

"What are we looking for, Boss?" Julian asked.

"A small, black metallic flash drive," Sam said, holding the phone tight against his ear. "If it's inside the vehicle or on the office floor, put it in the safe immediately. If it's missing from the property entirely, I want you to pull every second of security camera footage from the Monterey hangar that night. Check every employee who loaded luggage or came within ten feet of my car."

"Got it, Boss," Julian replied. "I'll take a team to the airfield right now and pull the gate logs."

"Do it fast and keep it quiet," Sam said, ending the call without waiting for an answer. He tossed the phone onto his messy desk and stared out into the dark, storm-filled night, completely unaware that the very drive containing all his dark controversies was sitting inside the jacket pocket of the girl locked right beneath his feet.