This struck him as odd since only a handful knew his contact.

Without hesitation, Theodore dialed the unknown number.

A distorted, grating voice, clearly manipulated by a voice changer, answered.

“Mr. Anderson, you finally pick up. So, does this mean you're done caring about her Life?"

Those words sent a chill down Theodore's spine. Trying to keep his voice steady, he asked, “What are you implying?”

The man wasted no time, coldly responding, “Ariana is in my hands.

You've got 48 hours to come up with one hundred million in cash. Or else, expect parts of her arriving at your doorstep."

With that, the call ended abruptly.

Overcome with panic, Theodore lost his grip on his temper, hurling the phone onto the floor. His face flushed from anxiety, eyes aflame with distress.

Horace, who had overheard the conversation, quickly tried to reassure him.

“Boss, they want to use Mrs. Anderson to get to you. I don't think she's in immediate danger.”

The reassurance helped Theodore regain a degree of calm.

Holding back his outrage, he ordered, “Assemble a team to gather the cash, and another to investigate discreetly. We move now!"

As Horace got to work, Theodore sank to the floor, clutching his throbbing head in agony. A dull headache pulsed within. He pounded a fist against his head in a bid to quell his nerves.

Judging by the timeline, Ariana had been abducted around the time he'd lost contact with her the night before. She couldn't have gone far by then.

Theodore directed Horace to concentrate on the particular intersection from last night.

The wait for the investigation results was torturous. Theodore paced the room restlessly, his body trembling uncontrollably every time he tried to sit.

Why didn't he search for her more thoroughly? Why had he so easily given up? Why had he let his health hinder him?

Regret and self-reproach gnawed at him as he fervently hoped for Ariana's safety. Whoever was responsible, they'd pay dearly.

Soon enough, Horace returned with the information.