Chapter 53: The Trail Left Behind
The cold cement floor of the service corridor felt numb beneath Ken's leather shoes. The man stood upright in front of the emergency exit door, which was still vibrating slightly from the forceful shove of someone who had just escaped. Under the dim corridor lights, his jaw tightened until the veins in his neck stood out sharply.
He slowly bent down and picked up a small object lying pitifully near the rubber mat. A black hairpin, still holding several strands of light brown hair whose scent he knew all too well.
Ken gripped the hairpin tightly—so tightly that its tip pierced the skin of his palm. The sting was nothing compared to the crushing blow to his pride. For the first time, something that belonged to him had dared to walk away without permission and deceive him right under his nose.
"T-Tuan Ken..." Juna came running from the end of the corridor, breathing heavily, cold sweat covering his forehead. "The security guards outside said... a barefoot woman just got into a black public taxi at the side-road intersection. The hotel staff didn't dare stop her because they thought she was a drunk guest."
Ken slowly turned around. His eyes were dark, showing no emotion at all, yet it was precisely that emptiness that made Juna lower his head immediately.
"One hour." Ken's voice was calm, yet filled with deadly menace. "Find that taxi, check the surveillance cameras along the Mayfair highway route, and freeze all accounts connected to her name. If she is not standing in front of me within one hour, you know the consequences, Juna."
"Yes, Sir. I'll take care of it immediately." Juna turned around as fast as lightning, fully aware that the lion before him was at the peak of his fury.
Inside the warmth of the ballroom, the clinking of glasses and the formal laughter of the guests continued to hum steadily. However, for those with sharp instincts, the atmosphere around the Alexander family's main table had suddenly become oppressive.
Victor Valdes took a sip of his whiskey, his keen eyes observing several well-built men in black suits—men he recognized as Ken's personal bodyguards—moving hurriedly toward the side exit.
"Something's wrong," Victor muttered, nudging Aric's arm with his elbow. "Look at Ken's men. They're acting like they're hunting down a high-profile fugitive. Ken's face when he left the commissioner's table earlier was terrifying."
Aric, who was holding a glass in his hand, did not respond immediately. For some reason, an unsettling feeling had been creeping into his chest for the past ten minutes. His heart was beating in an unusual rhythm, creating a sense of dread he could not explain logically.
Aric placed his glass on a nearby cocktail table and pulled out his phone from the pocket of his tuxedo. "I need to check something," he said quietly.
His fingers moved quickly, tapping Emeli's name in his contact list before bringing the phone to his ear. He waited. However, instead of hearing Emeli's gentle voice, only the mechanical voice of an automated operator informed him that the number was currently unavailable.
Aric lowered the phone and stared at the screen, his brows furrowing deeply. She said she was home with a bad flu. Why is her phone turned off? The worry that had once been faint was now growing stronger, making the air inside the luxurious ballroom suddenly feel suffocating.
Meanwhile, inside a taxi cutting through the city's light drizzle, Emeli curled up in the corner of the back seat. Her knees were drawn tightly to her chest, wrapped in her trembling arms. The navy-blue evening gown that had looked so elegant just a few hours ago now appeared pitiful, its hem dirty and torn from scraping against the cement floor.
"Miss, are we really heading to the eastern outskirts?" the middle-aged taxi driver asked from behind the wheel, occasionally glancing at her through the rearview mirror with concern at the sight of his barefoot, disheveled passenger.
"Y-yes, Sir. Please hurry," Emeli whispered, her voice trembling as she fought back tears. She glanced at the phone in her hand. Its screen was pitch black—the battery had died completely just after she managed to escape through the emergency exit.
But in a way, she was grateful. With her phone dead, Ken would not be able to track her location through its GPS signal. Emeli closed her eyes, allowing tears to stream down her pale cheeks. She knew she could not return to her own apartment, could not go to the hospital where Aric worked, and could not go near Victor's office. Those places would be the first locations Ken's men would check.
There was only one place left. A small rental house on the outskirts of the city owned by Maya, her high school friend who worked in a garment factory. The fact that they had drifted apart and rarely kept in touch had now become her greatest advantage—Ken would never have any reason to suspect that place.
Back in the lobby of the five-star hotel, Ken's long stride suddenly came to a halt when a silver-headed cane struck the marble floor directly in front of his shoes.
"Where do you think you're going, Alexa Ken?!" Alexander Senior's baritone voice thundered, causing several staff members passing by to stop in their tracks. The elderly man stood there with visible anger etched across his wrinkled face. Beside him, Liona stood with a satisfied look in her eyes. "The executives of Euro-Group are still waiting for you inside to sign the memorandum. And you're planning to leave just to chase after that insignificant woman?!"
Ken did not retreat even a single step. He looked at his father with the same cold gaze, completely unfazed by the authority of the man who had built their business dynasty.
"Business matters can wait until tomorrow morning," Ken replied, his voice low yet carrying absolute authority. "But what belongs to me and dares to run away must be dealt with tonight."
"Have you lost your mind?! You're willing to risk this week's stock stability over a lowly woman?!" Alexander Senior stepped forward, pointing at his son's face in fury. "If you walk out of this lobby right now, I won't hesitate to reconsider your position as Chief Executive Officer!"
Instead, Ken curled his lips into a mocking smirk. He leaned slightly toward his father and whispered in a tone capable of sending chills down anyone's spine.
"Go ahead, Old Man. Strip me of my position if you want to see all of Alexander Group's assets in Asia come to a standstill within twenty-four hours. Never try to control my life again."
Ignoring Liona's hysterical cries calling his name, Ken turned around and continued his long stride through the lobby's glass doors toward the black sports car waiting for him at the drop-off lane.
The engine roared as Ken slammed his foot onto the accelerator, speeding through London's rain-soaked streets. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white and the veins on his hands bulged prominently.
Bzzz... Bzzz...
The Bluetooth connection on the dashboard chimed. Ken pressed a button on the steering wheel without taking his eyes off the dark road.
"Talk."
"Tuan Ken," Juna's voice came through hurriedly. "We managed to trace the taxi identification number through the city's CCTV network. However, the driver just reported through the dispatch center that the taxi changed directions several times in the commercial district before heading toward the eastern outskirts. Nona Emeli seems to have deliberately tried to throw us off."
Ken did not answer. His eyes shifted to the reflection of himself in the rearview mirror—a pair of dark eyes gleaming with a dangerous hunter's instinct.
A cold smile once again appeared at the corner of his lips.
"Deliberately hiding and erasing your tracks, hmm? Interesting," Ken murmured to himself, his voice sounding like the whisper of a devil in the silence of the night. He increased the car's speed, sending the luxury vehicle shooting forward like an arrow through the darkness. "Run as far as you can, Emeli. Enjoy the remainder of your freedom tonight. Because once I find you, I swear I won't give you even enough space to see the sun again." :::