Try Begging - Chapter 151.1
‘Would you find me now? It’s practically a national waste of money.’
Grace muttered under her breath, sitting in front of a wanted poster as a form of mockery. He probably wouldn’t know it was her.
She suddenly let out a bitter laugh.
Even on the wanted poster, they didn’t bother to name her.
‘What’s the use of being named anyway?’
She dismissed such pointless thoughts only to have more pointless ones.
The phone number listed at the bottom was unfamiliar. Was it newly set up for this purpose?
Sometimes, she felt the urge to call it, just out of curiosity. Could it be the mansion? No, that would be absurd. Or perhaps the headquarters? Surely not. Even if the line between personal and professional were blurred, that would be too much…
Her gaze then drifted up to the prominently displayed reward amount.
‘Look at that amount… Does he really want to find me that badly?’
Grace pulled out a newspaper from her bag and unfolded it. She stared straight at the ‘perfect’ man in the photo, curling the corners of her eyes.
‘Your insides must be burning black by now, aren’t they?’
In the reflection of a rain-hit window, Leon stared emotionlessly at his own image. His decorations had increased again. He cringed at the thought of them smelling like blood. He shut his eyes and turned his head away. It was pointless in front of an illusion that clung to his mind.
“Ah, Major Winston.”
The sound of his name made Leon turn around. Commander Davenport was entering the commander’s office of the headquarters.
“I’ve been waiting.”
It was obvious since the commander had called him. Leon followed into the office, and as the commander sat behind his desk and motioned him to a seat, his expression suddenly became concerned.
“What happened to your hand?”
The commander noticed the bandage wrapped around his right hand and asked right away.
Leon didn’t respond, taking a seat and letting his hardened expression speak for itself. Seeing that, the commander didn’t press further and instead offered him a deep caramel-colored cigar from a box.
He accepted it without hesitation.
“It’s your first day back at the headquarters after the operation.”
As the smoke cleared from his field of vision, Commander Davenport reopened the conversation.
“How do you find your new office? To your liking?”
Leon exhaled a long stream of white smoke and nodded half-heartedly.
“It’s not bad.”
Since this year, Leon was no longer just the head of Domestic Intelligence at the Western Command but the commander of the First Special Missions Unit.
A unit with extraordinary jurisdictional command and personnel, specifically established to completely eradicate the remnants of the Blanchard rebellion. The formation of such a unit had been authorized by the army headquarters with the approval of the king and parliament.
It was requested by Leon himself.
It was under the pretext of eradicating the rebels, but it granted him the benefit of walking the nation to pursue the woman. Of course, that it was personal greed disguised as an official operation was something only Commander Davenport would know among the high-ranking individuals.
“It’s regrettable about that child.”
The commander said meaninglessly as he stared at Leon’s face.
“I was much like you once. After that incident, while scrambling to manage the situation, the child’s mother disappeared, leaving me lost for a while. But had she not left and I had come to know everything, a greater tragedy might have ensued.”
His voice lowered and spoke what could have been consolation or provocation.
“Love fades, wounds heal. It’s time for both the child and you to go your separate ways. You have a promising future ahead. You can’t lose all you have over one loss.”
“Commander.”
Leon broke the silence, stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray.
“Do you truly believe that? That it’s regrettable that she’s gone.”
His question wasn’t just about the woman’s disappearance.
Throughout the investigation, Leon ensured that every record and testimony related to Grace Riddle was erased. The Blanchard rats that were eager to broadcast her crimes had soon shut their mouths when threatened with having their tongues seared with a cigar for merely mentioning her name.
He erased the woman’s records and identity. Leon also commanded that all documents related to the rebellion scattered across the nation be sent to the First Special Missions Unit.
His first order upon obtaining full command was to erase any trace of ‘Little Riddle’ from the records, making it appear as if Angela Riddle had never had a daughter. Furthermore, he declared the woman, whose birth certificate he had found among her belongings, dead, making her a person who no longer existed in this world.
Erasing the woman’s information was also a relief for the commander. He must have felt like he was sitting on a thorn bush, wondering if his own stories were entangled in the records and testimonies.
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