The sea, especially within a 10–odd–mile radius where the eyes could see, was practically endless.
Even a swimmer would find their strength steadily evaporating as the hope of seeing land or rescue,
along with the warmth of their body, were slowly chipped away by the claws of icy water. Without ample
preparations and gear, death was a surety. Two bodyguards yanked Sandy by her arm with their dear
life, but the obstinate mule kicked up a rough fight. Beads of sweat bathed her hands before rolling
down the arms.
Colton rushed to the railing and bellowed, “Are you suicidal!?” Sandy gave out a sheer, mirthless laugh.
“I‘d rather die than see you people gloat!” Shock jolted through Colton. “Wait–” The woman pried her
arm out of his grip with all her might. The force knocked her off balance, and she toppled, plunging
straight into the sea below.
The water swallowed her.
It was then that several speedboats emerged from a distance. Two helicopters circled above the sea,
inching close to Colton‘s ship, before another ocean liner appeared. The door to one of the helicopters
opened, a ladder unfurled, and a silhouette descended upon the deck “Waylon?” Colton blurted out.
His bodyguard was just as surprised. “Master Wayne?” The man in question removed his leather
gloves and started toward them. “Looks like I came just in time.” The crew on a speedboat hauled
Sandy out of the sea. She writhed, gagging on seawater, and threw a last–ditch struggle against her
captors. “Let me go! Let me go and let me die!”
Her rescuers pinned her down and quickly tied her up. They shoved a piece of cloth into her mouth to
prevent her from biting her tongue off.
In the distance, other speedboats and helicopters retreated to the newly–arrived ocean liner. Colton
smiled and took a step forward. “When did you return, and how did you know I was here?”
Waylon placed his hand on his brother‘s shoulder. “Two days ago, I received some news. I rushed
home, and I came as soon as I heard about you intercepting Donald‘s ship. I was worried.”
As the brothers headed inside the cabin, Colton asked, “News from who?” Waylon laughed. “Nollace,
of course.”
Colton did not seem shocked at all. “Huh, the man lives.”
Waylon hummed. “He‘s in the East Islands now with the Southerns family.” The ships returned to the
pier where Yaramoor embassy personnel and the Interpol waited. Sandy and some of Donald‘s men
were promptly brought to the team.
The representative from the Yaramoor embassy shook hands with Waylon after the captives were
transferred to them. “We cannot thank you enough for your help, Mr. Goldmann. They shall return to
Yaramoor as assets to our investigation.”
“These people are all in cahoots with Donald Matthews, who‘s now hiding somewhere within the East
Islands. More troubles are ahead, I‘m afraid.” The man nodded. “Afraid so. I shall report to the UN.”
The team left. The incident, as it seemed, for the time being, was settled. Waylon and Colton hurried
home to the Goldmann mansion. Their appearance surprised the butler, who cried out, “You‘re back,
Master Wayne?” The man in question hung his coat on the back of the couch as the butler hurriedly
prepared refreshments. “You should have noticed us prior, Master Wayne.” The butler then added,
“Mrs. Goldmann is at work, while Mr. Goldmann Sr. and Miss Daisie have gone fishing.”
Colton stiffened. “Fishing?” The butler sighed. “Well, Miss Daisie hasn‘t been in good spirits, Master
Coleman, since Mr. Knowles‘ accident. Mr. Goldmann Sr. took the young lady out in the hopes that it
could ease her nerves a little.” Colton slapped his forehead lightly. He had been in Daisie‘s shoes
before that was, to be the old man‘s fishing partner. It was a torment to a man not known for his
patience. He even developed a repulsion to fishing, concluding that it was the most boring time–waster
ever. Their grandfather was nice to have brought Daisie out, though. Waylon took a sip of tea and
laughed. “Better than cooping up at home.”
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