Chapter: 1114

Amabel's spirits lifted at the prospect of spending the evening with Sean.

A flicker of confidence crossed her eyes. Ever since Norah stopped appearing before Sean following Amabel's last phone call, Amabel had made it a point to be around Sean.

In matters of the heart, there was no ‘first come, first served.*

Ultimately, the victor would be the one who persevered.

Marlin and Norah set out very early. By midday, they were nearing their destination, a dusty, sunbaked town.

Norah hopped out of the car. “Lunch first," she declared, scanning the surroundings. "Maybe we can ask around while waiting for the food."

Finding Ivy and her family members was proving trickier than anticipated. This town was their most frequent haunt, but specifics remained elusive.

Marlin, ever the pragmatist, followed close behind. "Small town, sure," he conceded, his expression grim. "But lots of hidden corners. We might be here a while."

He added, his brow furrowed in concern, "Printed some recent photos.

Might jog someone's memory."

The gesture spoke volumes. Getting access to these photos from the police couldn't have been easy.

Norah flipped through them, each a static image trapped in time. The photos were taken at the year when they were announced dead.

“Twenty years," she sighed, a touch of resignation in her voice.

“People change. Useful, but not a magic bullet."

Ivy and her family members were masters of disguise, ghosts flitting through the fringes of society. Without those blurry surveillance pictures, Norah wouldn't even have had a starting point.

"Food first, then strategy," she decided, leading the way to a roadside stall.

Marlin looked out of place, his tailored suit clashing with the ramshackle surroundings. Even his shoes, usually polished to a gleam, sported a healthy layer of mud.

Yet, here he was, for her.

Norah couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Mr. Boyd, ever been to a place like this? You've gotten used to refined food. You don't belong here. Why did you follow me here? "

Marlin grimaced, his fingers fumbling with a greasy napkin that wouldn't budge the oil-stained table. A flicker of his past, a time he wasn't eager to revisit, danced in his eyes.

"Not used to it," he admitted, his voice low. "But I'll manage. I'm here to keep you safe."

He tossed the damp napkin aside. “Besides, I've been through worse.”

The unspoken words hung heavy in the air — the kidnapping, the brutal awakening to the world's darkness.

Sensing his discomfort, Norah quickly changed the subject.