Chapter 716

The gang leader rubbed the freshly acquired five-million-dollar check between his fingers, his wariness toward Evelyn completely dissipating. When she offered to write the ransom note, he grinned widely. "Smart move. But don't try anything funny. If you pull any tricks, we’ll follow Miss Lightfoot’s orders without hesitation."

Evelyn suppressed her pounding heart, keeping her voice steady. "With all of you watching me, what could I possibly do?"

"That’s more like it." The leader grabbed a pen but suddenly set it down again.

"What’s wrong?" Evelyn asked.

He scratched his head. "Can’t the cops analyze handwriting? What if they trace it back to me?"

Evelyn seized the opportunity. "Then let me write it. The Hamiltons recognize my handwriting."

The leader’s eyes lit up—this would save them the trouble of proving the hostage’s identity. He shoved the paper and pen at her roughly, his gaze locked onto her hand as she gripped the pen.

Her fingers trembled slightly. She glanced around, seeing nothing but peeling paint on the walls. This ransom note was her only hope.

The pen moved swiftly across the paper, filling the page in no time. After inspecting it, the leader handed it to a subordinate for delivery.

Two hours later.

Natalie rushed in with a lab report. "Mr. Hamilton, we’ve identified the substance on the button—industrial machine oil mixed with metal shavings."

Alexander Hamilton stared at the report. "Any leads on the source?"

"Preliminary analysis suggests a metalworking factory or scrap yard." Natalie wiped her brow. "The scope is too broad. We need more time to narrow it down."

"Keep digging. The faster, the better." His voice was hoarse.

The family doctor handed him a glass of water. "Mr. Hamilton, the sedative has taken effect, but the wound on your hand needs stitches."

Alexander rolled up his bloodstained sleeve. "Do it now."

"Without anesthesia—"

"Stitch it."

The doctor’s hands shook as he threaded the needle. With each stitch, Alexander’s muscles tensed, his shirt soaked with sweat.

Natalie burst in again. "Mr. Hamilton! A new ransom note arrived—it’s Mrs. Hamilton’s handwriting!"

Alexander snatched the letter, scanning every word like a hawk. Suddenly, his pupils constricted.

"Alert everyone. Focus the search on the abandoned industrial park in the East District."

Natalie froze. "The East District? But we’ve flagged dozens of suspicious locations—"

"No time to explain." Alexander carefully folded the letter. "The children’s safety comes first. I’ll head to the East District myself."

He knew Evelyn’s writing habits too well. Trained in medical academia, she was meticulous with punctuation—yet this note’s punctuation was erratic. Especially the odd ink blot after the word "East," unmistakably deliberate.

Inside the industrial park, Alexander and his team split up to search. Machine oil, metal shavings, the East District—all clues pointed to the warehouse storing old equipment.

"Mr. Hamilton, you don’t look well," a bodyguard said worriedly.

Alexander ignored him, wrenching open another warehouse door with a crowbar. The screech of metal echoed through the empty complex.

At the same time, frantic footsteps sounded from the warehouse’s second floor.

"Boss! Someone’s breaking in!" A lookout stumbled into the room in panic.