Chapter 271

Lucas stood frozen, his entire body paralyzed with shock.

For days, he had avoided confronting this possibility, too terrified to face what might be true.

But when Donovan laid out his findings, Lucas suddenly collapsed to his knees.

His muscular frame shook violently with suppressed emotion.

Tears streamed down the actor's face as years of pent-up grief finally broke free.

Bennett, watching nearby, felt his own throat tighten with shared sorrow.

Donovan observed his brother's breakdown with quiet intensity.

Regret darkened his scientific mind. He'd emerged from his lab too late.

With his genius-level intellect, Donovan methodically reconstructed every possible scenario.

Leo's tracker had gone completely dark - not even satellite imaging could detect it.

This suggested advanced signal-blocking technology was in play.

Their search radius needed to shift two thousand nautical miles southeast.

Lucas immediately called off current operations and redirected all resources.

Donovan continued analyzing satellite data, his fingers flying across holographic displays.

The target zone showed dozens of uncharted islands - each a potential death trap.

His silence spoke volumes. Lucas called William with renewed hope, urging him to halt asset liquidation.

William berated him for worrying about money at such a time.

Donovan snorted at his brother's wounded expression.

"Searching for your IQ is like hunting for a ghost," he muttered.

Lucas opened his mouth to retort, then wisely closed it.

When it came to intellect, Donovan outclassed everyone present. A mercenary captain questioned their new coordinates, refusing to proceed.

"It's not about payment," the grizzled veteran explained. "That's pirate territory."

"No government patrols dare enter those waters."

"Their main stronghold sits among those islands. No one comes back from there alive."

Lucas's hope shattered like glass. He turned desperately to Donovan.

The scientist hesitated only briefly before calling Alexander on a secure line.

After a tense minute, Alexander simply said, "Understood. Stand by."

At Highland Estates, the situation had grown dire.

Nathan Blackwood had been confined to his suite for forty-eight hours.

Empty liquor bottles littered the opulent room like fallen soldiers.

The once-impeccable billionaire now sat slumped in a corner, clutching a half-empty bottle.

"Evelyn..." His broken whisper filled the space between gulps.

Tristan Whitmore and Gregory Thornton had tried everything to rouse him.

Where was the commanding CEO who ruled Wall Street? Love had reduced him to this shell.

When Alexander arrived, his lips curled in disgust. "Mr. Blackwood," he began coldly.

"What if I told you Evelyn might still be alive?"

He reminded Nathan of an early corporate crisis - when pirates had seized Kingsley Tech oil tankers.

While governments wrung their hands, Nathan had single-handedly retrieved the ships.

He'd become the only man to ever best those pirates and live.

Now Alexander laid out Donovan's theory without softening the dangers.

Money could be negotiated. But if they wanted Evelyn dead...

The moment Alexander left, Nathan sprang into action.

"Harrison!" he barked, suddenly sober. "Prep the jet immediately."

From his safe, he retrieved an antique pistol and burner phone.

Old Master Blackwood's guards proved no match for Nathan's manic determination.

The patriarch could only watch helplessly as his grandson departed.

For Evelyn Sinclair, Nathan Blackwood would storm the gates of hell itself.