Try Begging - Chapter 145.2
Leon twisted his lips into a mocking smile and then abruptly let go. After he tidied the sleeve and cufflinks with a leisurely grace, he put on his jacket, appearing as impeccable as when he had entered, while Blanchard watched him with even more terrified eyes than before.
As Leon was about to leave, he paused.
“Ah, it’s the last night of the year. I shouldn’t forget to send my regards. Unlike you, I know a bit about courtesy.”
With a twisted smile, he offered Blanchard a mockingly kind word.
“May next year be even more hopeful than this one, since that futile hope is all you have left.”
As soon as he stepped into the corridor, the smile faded from Leon’s face. Behind him, Campbell’s voice faintly instructed a duty soldier to call the doctor.
Why keep this useless fool alive?
It wasn’t something he didn’t know the reason for. Both the royalty and the military highly valued Blanchard’s capture. The information he possessed was necessary for mopping up remnants and resolving unsolved cases.
The longer Blanchard stayed alive, the more his capture inflated Leon’s personal and familial prestige.
However, in his eyes, all these seemed trivial. If killing this arrogant rat would bring her back, he would disregard all professional and personal considerations without a moment’s hesitation.
“Ha…”
With a sigh, Leon sat alone in the living room of his suite.
No matter how much he closed the windows and drew the thick curtains, the noise of the raucous parties outside seeped through. Even turning on the radio did little to help; the lively music and praises directed at him felt like mockery.
Leon refolded a letter he had finished reading and threw it back into a box on the corner of the coffee table. Next to it was a heap of envelopes, postcards, receipts, and fake IDs he had collected.
Tonight, like every other night, he rummaged through the items he had taken from the woman’s boarding room. Despite having seen these items nauseatingly often over the past week, anxiety gnawed at him that he might have stupidly missed something crucial.
Just like he had missed her.
This time, he carefully read through one of the diaries stacked on the opposite side of the table from the first page, hoping to find any hint of a place she might go or a person she might turn to.
The only useful piece of information he had unearthed so far was that she had an aunt named Florence in the New World. This stubborn woman seemed to have no connections outside the rebels, except for this aunt.
“Ha…”
It felt wrong. He was looking in entirely the wrong direction, wasting precious time on dead ends.
Leon put down the diary, thinking it was just a waste of time. A frustrating sense that his intuition wasn’t guiding him to the right path overwhelmed him.
He should have never taken his eyes off her, not for a moment.
He replayed that day endlessly in his mind. The initial triumph of stepping into the heart of the base had now morphed into deep regret. He buried his face in his hands, and when he closed his eyes, her face floated before him.
She was mocking him.
That d*mned woman, slippery as a rat, always managing to slip through his nets. How many times has this happened now?
However, his resentment soon turned to worry.
Vivid images flickered before his eyes: her sobbing figure on the way to Winsford Station, the lost look standing aimlessly on the platform, and her notably haggard face at Chesterfield Station.
Each image tormented him as if unfolding right in front of him at this moment. It made him think if this were truly happening now, he could have made a different choice. In this cold winter, not just physically alone but emotionally a wreck, where could she be wandering?
The place she should be was right here.
Raising his head, Leon saw the bedroom door wide open. The bed where he should have lain with her was impeccably made, empty, not a crease on the sheets. The champagne remained unopened.
With a sigh that sounded almost like a groan, he got up.
Picking up his officer’s jacket and coat, he stepped out of the suite.
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