Chapter 333: Vanished into Thin Air
The white sedan pulled away from the rental agency.
Isla Griffith’s hands on the steering wheel wouldn’t stop trembling. Her knuckles were white from her grip, and even her breaths were choked, suppressed sobs.
A familiar, heavy ache pulsed in her lower abdomen, and a fine sheen of cold sweat broke out on her forehead.
It had only been a few days since her miscarriage. She hadn’t fully recovered, and her body was incredibly weak. Sneaking out of the hospital and walking for so long through the old district’s unmonitored alleyways had completely drained her of energy.
Now, sitting in the driver’s seat, her whole body felt limp and powerless. It took all her strength just to sit up straight.
She didn’t dare to rest for even a moment. Forcing herself to endure the discomfort, she fixed her gaze on the road ahead, avoiding the wide, paved main roads to the city center and instead plunging onto a remote country lane, pitted and dusty.
Gravel CRUNCHED sharply under the tires. The old car’s body was already unsteady, and it jostled even more violently on the rough road.
Every jolt, up and down, side to side, tugged at the internal wounds in her abdomen, making her face turn as pale as a sheet in an instant.
Her lips, already colorless, were now completely drained of blood.
The heavy ache in her abdomen grew more intense with each passing moment, morphing from a dull throb into a relentless, twisting pain. Her strength was draining away bit by bit. A weak, exhausted soreness permeated her limbs, and even her foot on the gas pedal felt light and unsteady.
Isla leaned weakly against the back of the seat. Her back was already soaked in cold sweat, her loose clothes sticking clammily to her skin with a bone-deep chill.
Even though the physical agony was almost too much to bear, she didn’t dare lower her guard. She used the pain to force herself to stay awake.
Isla had only one thought in her mind: she had to get out of Aston as fast as possible.
As for where she would go, her mind was a complete blank.
From the moment she decided to escape, she hadn’t had time to plan any route, nor had she thought about a final destination.
She had no destination, no expectations. She simply wanted to leave—to leave this city filled with all her pain and love, to escape the memories that kept her awake at night, to flee to a place where no one knew her and no one could find her.
This resolution was never because she didn’t love him. On the contrary, it was because she loved him too deeply, too painfully, and could only end this fated but fruitless relationship by running away.
Isla understood Sean Sterling’s feelings for her better than anyone.
The once-dashing young master of the Sterling family had broken with his own family for her sake.
He had willingly given up his comfortable life, his wealthy background, and all his pride, just to stay by her side.
It wasn’t that she didn’t understand or wasn’t moved by this deep affection. Countless times, she had been touched by this heavy love, wanting to let go of her heartache and reconcile with him.
But whenever that thought arose, the images of her two children who had died before they were even born would involuntarily surface in Isla’s mind.
The image of Sean’s mother, Yvonne Donovan, would appear—her face sharp and cruel, her eyes filled with contempt and hatred.
The heart-wrenching insults, the relentless torment, and the despair and grief of losing her children were like poisoned thorns deeply embedded in her heart, torturing her day and night.
Isla couldn’t bring herself to forgive as if nothing had happened. More than that, she couldn’t forget the despair and sorrow of her children’s deaths to accept a love that had cost Sean his family and her own flesh and blood.
As a mother, if she compromised so easily and forgot her innocent children, it would be the ultimate betrayal to them. She would never be able to forgive herself in this lifetime.
What made it even harder for Isla to find peace was that Sean had completely burned his bridges for her.
Without the support of the Sterling family, all his previous connections and resources were gone. The golden boy had been reduced to a wretched state.
She knew better than anyone that Sean shouldn’t be living like this. He was born to be part of the Sterling family; it was only because of her that he had fallen to this state.
Only if she left, completely and cleanly disappearing from his world, could he let go of his obsession and have a chance to return to the Sterling family, to the life that was rightfully his, and reclaim his pride and future.
This was the only thing Isla could do for Sean: give him back a stable life with the cruelest of goodbyes.
Guilt, pain, reluctance, and resolve intertwined in her heart like a suffocating net, trapping her and crushing the air from her lungs.
And when she thought of her best friend, Wren Sutton, hot tears finally broke free, sliding silently down Isla’s cheeks.
She could imagine Wren right now, frantic with worry, searching for her all over Aston like a madwoman, her eyes red as she rushed about, terrified for her safety.
How she longed to send her friend a message to say she was safe, to tell her not to worry anymore.
But she didn’t dare. She didn’t dare at all.
Isla knew what Adrian Lancaster was capable of. If she revealed the slightest trace of her whereabouts—even an anonymous text or a location signal—he would be able to track it down immediately and tell Sean.
Then, her entire escape would be for nothing. Sean would once again give up his chance to return to the Sterling family for her.
The two of them would be trapped forever in this painful relationship, torturing each other with no hope in sight.
Tears blurred her vision. Isla bit down on her chapped lips to keep from crying out, and the faint taste of blood filled her mouth.
"I’m sorry, Wren. Forgive me for leaving without a word."
"I’m sorry, Sean. Forgive me for being so heartless and resolute."
Her voice was as light as the wind, yet it carried a soul-crushing pain.
The white sedan drove slowly down the remote country lane, heading away from Aston, toward a vast, unknown future.
...
The late autumn wind swept up withered sycamore leaves, sending them spinning over Riventide before they drifted slowly down.
The bluestone path was also scattered with fallen leaves. The surroundings were quiet and desolate.
After getting out of the car, Adrian Lancaster kept hold of Wren Sutton’s hand.
The two of them walked along the lakeside path, their expressions grave, looking around in all directions for any sign of Isla Griffith.
Under the trees, beside the stone benches, by the railings near the water—wherever there was a human figure, Wren would stare intently, refusing to miss a single one.
’Isla, where in the world are you? Why would you leave without a word?’
Adrian felt Wren’s hand, cold and trembling, in his palm. He instinctively tightened his grip, warming her with his own heat.
"We’ve searched this side. Let’s go look on the other side of the lake. Can you still walk?"
Wren nodded, not feeling tired at all. "I can."
A cold autumn wind blew past. Adrian took off his jacket and draped it over Wren’s shoulders.
The two continued along the bluestone path.
They hadn’t gone far when Wren’s gaze suddenly locked onto a figure under a tree by the lake.
The person’s back was slender and frail. Her long hair was rustled by the autumn wind, and her head was slightly bowed. She looked just like Isla.
Wren, thinking it was Isla about to jump into the lake in despair, yanked her hand free from Adrian’s and sprinted toward the figure.
"Isla, don’t do anything stupid!"
She ran so fast that the wind howled in her ears and stung her face, but she felt nothing, her mind focused solely on Isla’s safety.
Just as Wren reached the person from behind, her hand outstretched to grab her arm, the girl slowly turned around.
A strange face met her eyes. The person looked at Wren with a blank expression, her eyes full of confusion. She clearly had no idea who Wren was.
"..."
Wren’s outstretched hand froze in mid-air, her disappointment palpable.
It wasn’t Isla.
She stared blankly at the stranger before her, opening her mouth to apologize but finding her throat too choked with emotion to make a sound.
Adrian arrived just in time, pulling the dejected Wren into his arms. He then said to the girl, "Sorry, we mistook you for someone else."
The girl blinked, then waved her hand. "It’s okay."
After saying that, she turned and left.
Wren remained frozen in place, her fingertips still poised as if to grab someone.
Just a moment ago, she had truly thought it was Isla. She had truly believed her best friend was about to do something foolish. She had run with all her might, with only one thought in her mind: she had to grab Isla, she absolutely could not let anything happen to her.
That sudden spark of hope had been shattered too quickly, vanishing before she even had time to react.
Wren’s eyes stung, and tears began to fall.
Adrian hugged her, his heart aching for her, and gently patted her back in comfort.
"Don’t be anxious. I’ll keep looking with you."
After some time, Wren took a deep breath, composed herself, and gave herself a mental pep talk, refusing to let herself sink too deep into negativity.
"Okay, let’s keep looking."
This time, Wren pulled up a photo of Isla on her phone and would hurry over to anyone she saw to ask.
"Excuse me, could you please take a look? Have you seen this girl? She’s very thin, looks unwell, and just got out of the hospital not long ago..."
The passersby out for a stroll all looked at the photo, shook their heads, and said with blank faces that they had never seen her.
Wren and Adrian circled the entire Riventide. They searched the lakeside benches, the waterside boardwalks, the blind spots under the bridge, the small paths in the dense woods—every hidden corner was scoured, but they found no trace that Isla had ever been there.
One after another, messages came in from Adrian’s men reporting their search results. The outcome was always the same: no sign of Isla. It was as if she had vanished into thin air, disappearing without a trace.