Chapter 485 Chapter 485: She Can’t Speak
At the moment, the Grand Hotel was chaotic. The police had formed a cordon around the hotel, and there was a large crowd gathering around it.
Ron, who drove Cristofer to the hotel, had to park the car at the intersection nearby. He said, “Mr. Hans, the road is blocked by the crowd. We can’t pass.”
“I see. Let’s walk to the hotel,” Cristofer replied to him calmly.
“Okay,” Ron nodded. Then, he got out of the car and took the wheelchair out of the trunk.
Since both of Cristofer’s legs were in plaster, he couldn’t get out of the car by himself. At this time, Vincent came over. Then, he and Ron helped Cristofer get out of the car and sit in the wheelchair.
By the time Cristofer managed to sit in the wheelchair, his forehead had been covered with sweat. Seeing him like this, Vincent asked worriedly, “Mr. Hans, are you okay?”
Not in the mood to care about his own condition, Cristofer didn’t answer his question and asked in reply, “What’s going on now?”
“The police have cordoned off the hotel, and all the guests in the hotel have been evacuated,” Vincent answered.
“I’m not asking about the hotel situation. I want to know how Estelle is,” Cristofer said.
Vincent paused for a moment before responding quietly, “I can’t find her.”
“What? Isn’t she still at the hotel?” Cristofer asked, a mix of shock and anger in his tone.
“The hotel staff believed you had checked in with Mrs. Hans, so they didn’t stop Victor and Mrs. Hans when they left,” Vincent explained.
“Victor and Estelle left together?” Cristofer questioned.
“Yes...”
“Is Estelle hurt?” Cristofer pressed for an answer.
Vincent hesitated for a moment before deciding not to speak.
“Why are you staying silent? Just tell me!” Cristofer felt so anxious that he almost wanted to get up and rush to the hotel right away.
“Mr. Hans, they... I’ll show you the surveillance video. You’ll understand it better,” Vincent said, feeling embarrassed, as he handed his phone to Cristofer.
The surveillance video revealed that about twenty minutes ago, Estelle left the hotel with Victor. Victor had his arm around Estelle, and she appeared close to him, almost like a loving couple.
Ron’s anger flared after watching the video. “Damn it! Is she falling for that fake Mr. Mysterious? It’s absurd!”
With a sheepish expression, Vincent explained, “I don’t know the full story. A hotel staff told me that Mrs. Hans called the front desk, claiming she was kidnapped. However, when the staff went to Room 1231 to check, Victor pretended to be you, Mr. Hans and said they were playing Truth or Dare. The waiter mentioned they seemed to be getting along well... And the hotel cleaner...” He hesitated, unsure whether to continue.
Ron asked, “What did the cleaner say?”
“She found ropes and cigarette butts in the room, and the bed and sofa were in disarray,” Vincent explained, feeling even more awkward.
Ron grasped the implication and was shocked. “You mean they... How could they do that? Damn it! That woman has crossed a line! She doesn’t deserve the sacrifices Mr. Hans has made for her!” Ron fumed, growing angrier by the moment.
Vincent tried to ease the tension, speaking gently, “Perhaps things aren’t what they seem. Let’s not dwell on this. Our priority is to find them.”
“I don’t think we need to find them,” Ron retorted indignantly. “It’s clear they’re in a relationship. If Miss Hudson is happy with that fake Mr. Mysterious, we shouldn’t interfere. She’s ungrateful, only remembering Mr. Hans’s past mistakes and not his sacrifices. No matter how kind he’s been to her, she refuses to forgive him.”
Cristofer interjected, “I understand why she can’t forgive me. I hurt her when she had cancer, and she nearly died because of me. Even though I’m severely injured now because of her, my life isn’t in danger. I still owe her to some extent, and perhaps I can never fully repay that debt.”
“Mr. Hans, she’d rather be with a man who looks like you than be with you. Why do you still care so much?” Ron asked.
Cristofer dismissed Ron’s question with a wave of his hand. “I can empathize with her.”
“Mr. Hans...”
“Enough of this. Take me to the hotel. I’ll personally check Room 1231. Maybe I can find some clues to find Estelle quickly,” Cristofer insisted.
Vincent tried to persuade him, saying, “Mr. Hans, it might not be a good idea for you to go. Your emotional state isn’t stable, and I’m worried that you might...”
Cristofer cut him off, saying. “Don’t try to persuade. I’ve made up my mind. The worst-case scenario is they’re together, and the room shows evidence of their intimacy. I’ve mentally prepared for that.”
“Mr. Hans...”
“Let’s go. Take me there now,” Cristofer said, appearing surprisingly composed.
At that very moment, Estelle slowly regained consciousness, her head throbbing with pain. She blinked, greeted by the aroma of food in the air. It was getting dark, and she could only see things by the light of the setting sun coming through the window.
Glancing around, she realized she was in an old, run-down house. Wooden window frames and slanting red brick walls made up her limited view. The space was cramped, about a dozen square meters, and she found herself in a corner. Nearby, an aging wooden bed stood beside a few stools and scattered items.
Estelle didn’t know where she was or how she got here.
Back at the Grand Hotel in Hadale City, Victor had hurriedly taken her away, fearing that tossing objects from a great height would attract unwanted attention.
Once they were inside the car, Victor covered her mouth and nose with a pungent-smelling towel. Within moments, she drifted into unconsciousness. When she awoke, she found herself in this decrepit house.
Lost in her thoughts, the wooden door creaked open abruptly, jolting her to full alertness. She turned her gaze toward the door.
To her astonishment, it wasn’t Victor who entered but a frail middle-aged woman with a slight hunch. She held a bowl of steaming food, approaching Estelle slowly.
With the door open, the room brightened, allowing Estelle to see the middle-aged woman more clearly. Her hands were bony, her skin weathered. There was genuine warmth in her eyes as she offered Estelle a kind smile and handed her the bowl.
“She can’t speak,” Victor remarked as he nonchalantly pushed the slightly ajar door wider and strolled into the room. After a cursory glance at Estelle, he settled on the wooden bed.