Chapter 1117: Continue the Search and the Attack

The trio agreed to meet in a secluded coffee shop, far from the city center, where pedestrian traffic was sparse.

The girl's parents arrived early, choosing a seat by the window.

Both were nervous.

The past few days had vaguely made them realize that their daughter's disappearance might not be a simple matter.

The police were unwilling to even open a case. They had consulted professional lawyers, whose advice was "limited searching." Generally, missing person cases that the police refuse to open rarely result in the person being found, dead or alive.

They didn't understand why their daughter had vanished overnight, nor why people were unwilling to search for her.

Their only hope now rested on the person who called them, the person willing to offer some help.

Around 10:00 AM, about ten minutes later than scheduled, a man wearing a hat pushed open the door and entered.

He glanced around at the few patrons, his gaze finally settling on the couple by the window.

A waitress approached him. "Are you alone, sir?"

She held a menu and a small notepad. The man shook his head. "Thank you, no. I'm here to meet someone."

The waitress pursed her lips and returned to the counter. The man walked directly to the couple and sat down across from them.

"If I'm not mistaken, you are the ones who posted the missing person notice," he cut straight to the chase.

The couple immediately tensed up. The girl's father almost stood, but remembering his surroundings, he sat back down.

He leaned forward, the edge of the table digging into his chest, desperate to get closer to the man and obtain news of his daughter.

"Yes, we spoke on the phone yesterday."

The man in the hat looked left and right again, appearing nervous. This made the girl's parents equally anxious.

"Listen, I've seen her, that girl. Do you know what she does now?"

The girl was not a college student. Her family could afford to send her to university with loans, but she wasn't academically inclined.

High school life was a major crossroads for Federal youth. The college acceptance rate at most public schools was low, due to the environment.

Public schools were cheaper, drawing poorer families. The Federation was a class-divided society.

The children of the upper class, the middle class, and the bottom of society all lived in different environments.

Their families' social habits carried over into the school. Consequently, the situation for most children in Federal public high schools was difficult.

They skipped class, dated, fought, extorted, and committed all kinds of mischief, including engaging in sex.

With a life of exciting confusion on one hand and the pain of studying on the other, these young people who lacked self-discipline often got lost on that dangerous path.

The girl's grades were poor. She had several boyfriends in high school, and being pretty, she joined the cheerleading team and had close relationships with the male athletes.

After high school, she began moving within various social circles. She might not have had good grades, but she had a beautiful face, an attractive figure, and blonde hair. People loved inviting these "Federal babes" to hang out.

She lived every day in a false, manufactured sense of vanity, escorted to high-end venues by her "agent."

Perhaps in her mind, this was a source of pride. She expanded her horizons, gained connections, and enjoyed the high-society life.

But in reality, she was nothing more than a chamber pot for the upper class.

Her family was unaware of this. To them, the girl was still an angel, clean, pure, and spotless.

"She said she was working as a model," the girl's father said nervously. In reality, no one can completely conceal one's other life.

The girl's father had noticed hints of her secret life—she brought home large sums of cash and expensive belongings that he knew they couldn't afford.

Out of respect for his daughter, he didn't press her, only asking her to take care of herself.

So, he could only relate what he knew.

The man in the hat across the table shook his head. "Model... you could call it that."

"In reality, she worked as a high-end escort. Her company and her agent took her to various parties."

"You know, the more exclusive, more youthful, more open parties."

The girl's parents looked pained. Her mother protested, "She's not like that! Impossible!"

The man in the hat looked at them calmly. "If you believe I'm lying, I'll leave now."

The girl's father quickly restrained the mother. His face was filled with sorrow and pain. "Please continue."

The mother looked at her husband with disbelief, as if asking why he would concede to such a claim after their daughter had gone missing.

Or, was he aware of something she wasn't?

"Her agent has a nickname, 'Bad Chef.' Before she disappeared, I saw him take some girls to a party, and your daughter was one of them."

"I can only tell you this much, for the sake of an innocent girl."

The man in the hat looked nervous now. He looked around, then leaned forward. "I have to go. Don't tell anyone we met."

He started to stand up. The girl's father immediately reached out and grabbed him. "Where can I find this Bad Chef?"

The man struggled briefly but couldn't break free. They stared at each other. The father's eyes showed a fierce determination.

After a moment, the man pulled out a business card, placed it on the table, and pulled his sleeve free. He lowered his head and quickly left.

It was a business card—the card of a manager at a modeling agency. It had a name, two phone numbers, and an address.

The couple looked at each other, neither speaking first.

After about a minute, the mother asked, "You knew she was doing this?"

The father hummed. "I wasn't sure. I just felt things weren't quite normal. Sometimes she'd bring home large amounts of cash and some expensive items."

"I asked her, and she said it was a bonus for working hard."

Perhaps due to trust in their daughter, their suspicions were rationalized, until the crisis erupted.

No problem erupts instantly; there is always an accumulation of stress that builds up unnoticed until it explodes.

In that explosion, no one is innocent.

"But even if she was doing that, it's no reason for her to disappear. We have to find her. No matter what she did, she is our daughter!"

The mother worried, "But we're just ordinary people. How can we solve this?"

The father looked at the business card in his hand, then gritted his teeth. "We find a reporter."

"Like I said, whatever she did wrong, she's our child. If she needs punishment, it should come from the law or us, not just disappear without a trace."

The couple quickly became resolute. The father, who had contacts with some journalists due to his work, found a business card for a reporter who was interested in big news stories. He called the number.

The reporter was indeed very interested in the girl's disappearance.

He wasn't interested in the case itself, but the missing girl. To be precise, people loved a news story about—

A beautiful girl who vanished without a trace. People would sympathize because of her face and figure.

The reporter quickly met the girl's parents. They discussed the matter, and the father even showed him the business card.

This immediately piqued the reporter's interest.

"Are you saying this might involve some people from high society?" The reporter's breathing quickened.

Many people claimed the Federation was not a society based on personal connections but a "score society"—your job title was based on your hard work and scores.

But in reality, the Federation was a society far more reliant on personal connections than people imagined.

Some people had to work on production lines for life after failing to finish high school.

But others could intern at the Presidential Palace, graduate to become a Mayor's Secretary, become a City Council member within a couple of years, and be a Mayor by age thirty, rising rapidly from there.

The journalism industry was the same. To become a major columnist with influence, there were only two paths.

First, secure a major exclusive story and win the Golden Newspaper Award. The award was the stepping stone for columnists. Only with the award could one secure their own column.

A column attracted investors and capitalists, expanded one's influence, and brought in more wealth.

Second, expose scandals about high society. These stories could directly target the hearts of the lower classes, leaving them breathless.

This also attracted massive attention, gained influence, built a fan base, and provided an opportunity to start a column.

Several dozen people won the Golden Newspaper Award each year. Its prestige was debatable, but not entirely insignificant, given the number of people who received it annually.

There were hundreds of thousands of reporters in the Federation, but only a handful won the award each year—one winner out of ten thousand, or even a hundred thousand.

The world rarely provided major news stories. A regular reporter could rarely win the award unless someone actively created the news for them.

So, for ordinary reporters, the only way to advance was to secure a painful, high-impact scandal.

While doing so meant becoming a thorn in the side of the elite, the resulting influence was undeniable. The bigger the story, the safer the reporter.

The ambitious reporter looked at the business card, his mind already formulating a plan. This was more than just a news story; it could become a massive, society-shaking special report.

But reporting it required finesse. He knew he couldn't immediately point the finger at high-society figures; the newspaper would never publish it.

He needed to start with the girl's mysterious disappearance to gain attention, then pressure the newspaper to cooperate.

With a complete plan, he began to act. "I will investigate this. You can continue your search. We can exchange clues every night to help us find your daughter."

The girl's parents reached an agreement with the reporter. The reporter immediately left. The mother asked, "Do you think we can succeed?"

The father was silent for a moment. "Do you want to give up?"

"Give up the truth, and let her disappear like this, leave our lives, leave this world?"

At this point, the parents sensed their daughter was likely dead, but the last sliver of hope fueled their desire to uncover the truth.

The news of the parents meeting the reporter was quickly relayed to Lance. Lance was slightly surprised.

"I was planning to guide them to this step, but they got there on their own."

He contemplated for a moment. "Have someone watch over them and protect them. The game hasn't officially begun yet. We can't let them die now."

Alan nodded. "I will 'take care' of them. Should we also protect the reporter?"

Lance gave a firm answer. "The reporter plays a key role. Find a way to leak some information to him, but don't make it too obvious."

If the reporter received some intelligence, he would be further motivated. But they couldn't reveal the true target yet.

If they told him the perpetrator was the grandson of the popular Presidential candidate, Porter, the reporter would immediately destroy all his notes and flee the New Golden City, finding a remote place to hide for years.

They needed to ensure he was sufficiently invested, placing him in an awkward, inescapable position.

He needed to feel he couldn't retreat, only advance, allowing the script to move forward.

After dealing with the situation on the coast, Lance frowned at the news coming from Old City.

The Bearded Director had been attacked inside his office. Someone had mailed him a bomb. Fortunately, his secretary opened the box, and the bomb detonated.

His secretary was killed instantly, and the Bearded Director sustained minor injuries from flying debris.

Despite this, he hadn't left the police station, instead arranging for two surgeons to stitch his wounds at the station.

He had just called Lance, certain the Perez family was behind it, which only solidified his resolve to cooperate with the Lance family and eliminate the Perez family.

Lance didn't care about the Chief's motives; he wanted to know how the Mayor and the State Government viewed the incident.

Today, they mailed a bomb to the police station. Tomorrow, they might mail one to the Mayor's office or other government officials.

"Has Ennio arrived in Old City yet?" Lance glanced at the time and date on his watch.

The men in the room confirmed. "He should be arriving this afternoon. He might already be there, just settling in."

Meanwhile, Ennio had just disembarked from the train. He quickly got into a patrol car by the roadside and drove to the Lance family base in Old City.

He looked at the room full of "police officers" and the familiar faces. He couldn't help but laugh out loud. "The moment I walked in, I felt a kind of... alarm."

"I thought, who the hell took me to a police station? F***, brothers, you truly surprised me!"

A few captains he knew well walked up and embraced him. They handed him a police uniform that fit. "This is for you too."

"It's not safe for us to operate in plain clothes here. The Perez family's control is very strong, so we have to wear the uniform."

This was a novel experience for Ennio. He had heard about Hiram patrolling in a police uniform. For a man, being a villain was a common fantasy.

But so was being a law enforcer, a police officer!

He quickly changed into the new uniform, put on the wide-brimmed hat, and looked quite handsome. He saluted his reflection in the mirror.

Turning around, he gathered all the captains. "Now, we need to have a meeting."

(End of this chapter)

Advance chapters at Nightjar Reads · nightjarreads.com