Darnley, for his part, must have been taken aback by Camila's swift rebuttal.

How could she be so resolute and unyielding in the face of his machinations?

For a moment, he didn't know how to negotiate with her.

"We were uncertain whether Isaac was in his clutches before, but now we can be certain," Camila asserted, her tone tinged with triumph.

"He hasn't captured Isaac. Otherwise, he would have sent a genuine photo of him."

"Yes, if Mr. Johnston were truly in his grasp, he wouldn't resort to such deception," Willie finally grasped the gravity of the situation.

"So, where is Mr. Johnston?" he queried, his voice tinged with concern.

Camila remained silent, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her shoulders like a leaden cloak.

Alick and Forrest mirrored her silence.

Their thoughts were consumed by the enigma of Isaac's disappearance.

No one knew where Isaac was. It was as if he had been swallowed whole by the vast expanse of the world, leaving behind only echoes of his presence.

"But we can find relief in one thing. Now we're certain that he is not in Darnley's grip," Alick ventured.

His words were a tentative offering of comfort to Camila.

He spoke not out of certainty, but out of a desire to assuage her fears, to offer her a sliver of hope in the darkness.

If he was not in Darnley's grasp, then perhaps he was safe.

Camila asked, her gaze fixed on Alick, searching for reassurance in his eyes, “Are you trying to comfort me?"

Alick lowered his gaze, his silence a tacit admission of guilt.

Not entirely, his gesture seemed to say, but perhaps in part.

Determined to take action, Camila rose from her seat. “Alick, find an expert to estimate the area where Isaac's plane might have gone down," she commanded, her voice firm and resolute.

Alick nodded in agreement, ready to carry out her order.