?Chapter 1097:

    Daxton’s fingers tapped lightly against the ss as he stared off, deep in thought.

    Elsewhere, Kristopher was sitting in the car, nning to run a few errands, when he passed by a medical waste disposal truck on the road. The truck’s window was down, and he happened to catch a few words from the driver and his buddy—”Woman,” “Beautiful,” “Such a pity.”

    It sent a jolt through his chest.

    Kristopher wasn’t the overly sensitive type, but when he got a gut feeling like this—it usually meant something bad was about to happen. A few times abroad, instincts like this had saved his life.

    He nced again at the truck. On the side, the name of a private gynecology hospital was printed—the same one Camille had mentioned recently.

    She’d said Carrie was going there for prenatal check-ups.

    His stomach tightened. He pulled out his phone and called Carrie. The call connected after a few rings, and he breathed a sigh of relief, asking, “Where are you?”

    “Hello?” A woman’s voice came on, clearly not Carrie’s. “Are you looking for Ms. Campbell? She’s at the hospital… for a check-up. I, um—”

    The voice was flustered—unsure, nervous, like she was holding something back.

    Kristopher’s frown deepened. Morrison family staff were always trained andposed. No maid would ever pick up a private call to family members unless something was wrong. His tone turned cold. “Where is Carrie? Put her on.”

    The next words hit him like a punch to the gut.

    “I—I can’t find her!” the maid cried.

    Kristopher’s instincts kicked in hard. He snapped at the driver, “Turn around. Follow that waste disposal truck. Now.”

    Then back into the phone, “Tell me everything—now.”

    Feel the thrill at g aln  ov el s .

    The maid stammered through her exnation, voice trembling as she recounted what had happened at the hospital.

    Kristopher told her firmly to alert the Morrison family immediately and contact the police—then ended the call.

    Kristopher was still on the phone when the driver—no ordinary chauffeur, but a former special forces soldier—began to piece the situation together.

    As soon as Kristopher ended the call, the driver spoke up. “Mr. Norris, this road leads to the seaside. Want me to have some men wait there?”

    Kristopher frowned. The seaside was too obvious. Anyone who analyzed the route could predict that location.

    If Carrie had really been kidnapped—and based on how carefully this had been pulled off, even the maid who picked up the phone had no clue what was happening—then why would the kidnappers choose the most obvious spot?

    Whether it was for ransom or something darker, the seaside didn’t make sense.

    Still, he couldn’t afford to rule anything out. “Send a team to the seaside,” Kristopher ordered. “And have the others cover every side road along this stretch.”

    The driver nodded and immediately recorded a voice message, dispatching orders. Just as he hit send, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

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