CHAPTER 8: I PROMISE
1130 Words
It had been over two weeks since Sebastian went missing, yet no new information had been discovered—except for the devastating confirmation that the helicopter he had been on had suffered a tragic crash.
Since that day, everything in the Taylor mansion had changed.
The once lively and joyful atmosphere had completely disappeared, replaced by a heavy silence that weighed on everyone’s hearts. The staff moved quietly, their usual energy gone, as worry and sadness lingered in every corner of the house.
Everyone was anxious.
Everyone was praying endlessly for the safe return of the young master—Sebastian.
“Sir, Madam is awake… but she has refused again to have her lunch. She didn’t even take breakfast. I even asked the maids to serve it in her room, but she drove them out.”
Mr. Ronald, the butler, spoke with a respectful bow. However, the concern in his voice could not be hidden.
His worry was not just about that day.
It had become a routine.
Ever since young master Sebastian was declared missing, Madam had stopped taking proper care of herself. She barely ate, barely slept peacefully, and hardly left her room.
At this rate, Ronald feared that her health would deteriorate to the point where she would have to be taken to the hospital.
And that thought troubled him deeply.
It was painful—truly painful—to watch her like this.
She cried every day until exhaustion took over. She refused food, refused company, and shut herself away from the world.
All she did was remain in her room, drowning in grief until sleep finally came.
And even then, her pain did not leave her.
There were times when the maids would quietly check on her, only to find tears streaming down her face while she slept—silent proof that her suffering followed her even into her dreams.
Some days were worse.
There were moments when she would lock herself inside Sebastian’s room, clinging to his belongings as though they were the only connection she had left to him. In those moments, she seemed lost… almost as if she could still see him there.
Until she would collapse from exhaustion.
It was heartbreaking.
To see a woman who had once been strong, full of life, always smiling and bringing comfort to others… now reduced to someone broken, desperate, and barely holding on.
“Hmmm… since when has she stopped eating?” Mr. Taylor asked, his voice calm but firm as he sat in his office, his gaze fixed on the butler standing before him.
“Since you left again for your business trip, sir,” Ronald replied, lifting his head slightly. “She has been very upset. She said… you don’t care about what happens to your son because you’re always focused on your business.”
A brief silence followed.
Kenneth Taylor did not react immediately, but something in his expression hardened slightly.
“Alright,” he said after a moment. “Ask the chef to prepare something light. Bring it to me—I will take it to her myself.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ronald bowed and quietly left the study.
Thirty minutes later, the soup was ready.
It was served carefully and brought to Kenneth, who took it without hesitation. He stood up immediately and made his way toward the bedroom, Ronald following behind him.
When he entered the room, he stopped.
The sight before him struck him deeply.
Alexandra.
His wife.
She looked weak… fragile… almost unrecognizable.
Her once radiant face had grown pale, and her eyes were swollen from constant crying.
For a moment, he said nothing.
He simply looked at her.
Taking in her pain.
“Leave us,” he said quietly to the butler.
Ronald bowed and stepped out, closing the door gently behind him.
Kenneth placed the tray on a nearby table.
The moment Alexandra noticed his presence, she rushed toward him.
“You’re back, Ken…” she said through her tears, throwing herself into his arms.
He held her tightly.
“I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly last time, my love,” he said softly, his voice gentle—so gentle that it was hard to believe he was the same man whose presence alone could intimidate others. “There was something important I couldn’t miss. But I’m fully aware of our situation… and you know it hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”
“I still can’t forgive you…” Alexandra cried, hitting his chest weakly. “You left just like that… when our son is still missing! We don’t even know where he is!”
Her voice broke as the thought overwhelmed her.
Her son… lost somewhere unknown… possibly hurt… or worse—
The thought alone was unbearable.
“Shhh… Alex, please…” Kenneth murmured, pulling her closer. “Stop crying… it pains me to see you like this.”
But she couldn’t stop.
“Then bring him back, Ken… bring him back!” she cried desperately, her voice trembling with pain.
Kenneth held her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes.
“I will,” he said firmly. “I promise.”
His voice carried determination.
Certainty.
And for a moment, it was enough to calm her.
“Come… sit down,” he said gently, guiding her toward the chair.
“You need to eat something. You look too weak. Ronald told me you haven’t been eating.”
She sat down slowly.
Her eyes fell on the food in front of her.
But she had no appetite.
Only emptiness.
“I don’t want you getting sick,” Kenneth continued. “What if Sebastian comes back and finds you in the hospital? Or worse?”
That thought reached her.
She didn’t want that.
She wanted to be there.
Waiting for him.
Because deep down… she believed he was still alive.
She could feel it.
Slowly, she opened her mouth.
Kenneth fed her gently.
Spoon after spoon.
In silence.
Afterward, he handed her a glass of fruit juice, which she drank slowly.
When she was done, he helped her lie down on the bed.
Within minutes, exhaustion took over, and she fell into a deep sleep.
Kenneth remained seated beside her for a while.
Watching her.
Thinking.
His expression slowly changed.
Then he stood up quietly and left the room.
Back in his study, the atmosphere shifted immediately.
The warmth disappeared.
Replaced by something colder.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
He poured himself a glass of vodka, sat down, and drank it in one shot.
He let out a slow breath.
Then reached for his phone.
He dialed a number.
The line connected.
“What have you found on that bastard?” he asked, his voice now cold, firm, and commanding.
- Writer
