He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts.
The room wasn’t as chaotic as Jonathan had expected—only a shattered desk lamp lay scattered across the floor.
Not far off, a small video camera was still set up, its red light off.
Stella wasn’t in the room.
Jonathan let out a heavy sigh of relief.
But he wasn’t foolish like Israel Williams. Just one look at the scene told him Joshua was probably right about what had happened.
Haynes scanned the room, his eyes landing on the camera.
He strode over and began playing back the footage.
After the secretary finished setting up the camera, Shawn revealed his true colors.
It didn’t take long for everyone to piece together exactly what had gone on.
Jonathan’s face darkened, his anger barely contained.
Shawn really had some nerve, pulling a stunt like this.
No matter how much the Williams family disliked Stella, they’d never stoop so low.
And if anyone had walked in on Shawn and Stella, Stella’s reputation would have been utterly destroyed if she didn’t end up marrying him.
Jonathan couldn’t even imagine how this mess was supposed to end.
If Shawn had succeeded, it would’ve meant a complete break between the Williams family and Stella.
With Stella’s temperament, there was no way she’d quietly let herself be manipulated into marrying Shawn.
Now, even if Jonathan had been slow to catch on, he understood—he’d been used as a pawn.
Haynes and Joshua didn’t have time to dwell on the layers of scheming and betrayal.
Right now, the priority was to find Stella.
Haynes swept the room again. Stella’s phone was nowhere to be found.
If Stella really had been drugged, things could hardly be worse.
Haynes looked calm enough, but the tremor in his fingers betrayed his anxiety.
The call went through, but no one picked up.
Haynes’ heart sank.
He was about to try again when his phone rang first.
Security had found Stella on the surveillance feed.
“Mr. O’Brien, Ms. Cameron is in the nearby Room 032.”
The voice paused, then added, “She’s with Mr. Foreman Richards.”
Haynes’ grip on his phone tightened, knuckles blanching white.
He hung up, his voice cold and clipped. “Room 032.”
No one wasted another second on Shawn. They rushed to the door of Room 032.
Joshua said, “Forget knocking. Break the lock—we don’t have time to waste.”

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