âNo, Iâm not leaving.
I need to see the surveillance footage.
â
Andrew exhaled heavily, resigned to my stubbornness, and simply nodded in agreement.
Supported by Calebâs steady arms, I followed Andrew to the security room.
The security team efficiently pulled up the morningâs surveillance footage for us.
On the screen, several figures dressed as bodyguards parked a black SUV near Abbyâs room.
They acted quickly, abducting Abby and the two maids and clearing out her room in under five minutes.
We watched, transfixed, as the SUV drove off, unimpeded by any security measures from start to finish.
Caleb and I were both stunned by the footage.
I faced Andrew, frustration lining my face.
âIs this all the security the manor has?â
First, I was poisoned here, and now my daughter was kidnapped under the same roof.
How could such a prestigious place be so vulnerable?
Andrewâs expression darkened with a mix of anger and determination as he responded, âI am deeply sorry.
I will personally handle this investigation immediately.
â
Debraâs POV:
I ignored Andrew.
The memory of Abby being taken away haunted me, leaving my heart in shards.
I sought solace in Calebâs embrace, shedding silent tears.
Calebâs expression was stormy, his forehead marked by prominent veins.
The mood in the monitoring room was tense and somber.
Breaking the oppressive silence, Jarrod Brewer, the head of the bodyguards, spoke on Andrewâs behalf.
âI didnât recognize any of those individuals in the footage.
They donât belong to our security team.
â
âWhat?â Calebâs voice was sharp.
âIf thatâs the case, how do they freely come and go?â
Jarrod paused, then continued, âTheyâre temporary workers brought in for Mr.
Pierceâs engagement to Debra.
Theyâre not our regular bodyguards.
The urgency to staff up and the size of the crew meant a few questionable characters got through.
â
Jarrod then bowed deeply, his respect palpable.
âDebra, please, donât hold this against Mr.
Pierce.
I was in charge of security, and I let you down.
I am ready to accept any punishment you see fit.
â
Andrew placed his hand on Jarrodâs shoulder, urging him to stand.
âThis isnât your fault, Jarrod.
The blame is mine.
I made the mistake of moving Nora away from Abby.
â
The scene seemed almost ridiculous.
Yet, who was I to judge? The fault lay with me alone.
I inhaled deeply, striving for composure.
As I wiped my tears, I choked out, âItâs not your fault.
Those who took Abby were prepared.
It wouldnât have mattered who was with her; they too would have been taken.
â
After my words, silence enveloped us once more.