?Chapter 3075:


    In time, that imagined scene had be reality.


    “It was my fault,” Savannah admitted, her voice low.


    Her voice thickening, she added, “I shouldn’t have let things go that far… I should have chased after you and brought you home.”


    Seeing tears form in Savannah’s eyes, Elissa set down her spoon and offered a tissue. “Mom, it’s okay.”


    “Thanks,” Savannah said, forcing a small smile as she took the tissue.


    “From now on, I’ll protect you. You won’t be alone again. No matter what, I’ll be right there with you,” Savannah vowed.


    Elissa nodded and returned to her soup.


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    She thought back to Ernest’s messages on the phone and deliberately chose not to respond.


    After his shower, Ernest reached for his phone.


    As he’d suspected—nothing.


    Heunched the surveince app—no alerts. So she still hadn’te back?


    Ernest waited through the day. By dusk, the sun nted low in the sky.


    Atst his phone chimed: a security alert.


    Ernest swiped the app open, and there it was: a Rolls-Royce passing his gate. Elissa had returned.


    He leapt to his feet, itching to hurry over and demand answers. But thinking of Savannah, he forced himself to stay put for now.


    If he went now, he might not even reach Elissa—and would only anger Savannah more.


    Ernest rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes.


    How could he possibly alter Savannah’s opinion of him?


    He spent the night turning the question over without making any progress.


    Early the next morning, he was up for another run.


    He still hadn’t found the bakery, so this time he pushed his search farther. Atst he found it.


    “Atst… this is the ce!” he eximed, a rare smile spreading across his face. He scribbled the address down—nning to bring Elissa here next time.


    He photographed the storefront and sent it to her with a brief note. “The bakery I told you about, Elissa,” read his short message.


    He tucked the phone into his belt pouch and began jogging back. As the sun climbed, Ernest hugged the shade to escape the heat.


    Suddenly something snared his foot, and he pitched forward.


    “Ugh!” Ernest groaned, nting his hands into the ground as he tried to push himself up.


    From nowhere, a plunged over him.


    What the hell?


    He struggled against the weave, confusion carving his face.


    Then he saw a fishing line coiled around his ankle.


    That was the tripwire—someone had set this trap.


    “Who’s there?” he shouted.


    A group of men sprang from the shadows.


    “Got him!”


    “Told you it’d work!”


    “What a n!” a jeering voice shouted.


    A pack of local youths from Ontmond closed in around him.


    Ernest had no idea what they hoped to achieve. He began to ask who they were and what they wanted, but then recognized some familiar faces. “It’s you guys!”


    They were the same punks who had cornered and harassed Elissa before—clearly the perpetrators behind that earlier incident.


    Ernest suddenly realized that his suspicions of being followed yesterday morning hadn’t been paranoia at all. Those footsteps trailing him yesterday—they were theirs.


    “Hey.” One of the men crouched before Ernest, sneering. “Love your morning runs, huh? Too bad—luck’s run out for you, man.”


    The group burst intoughter.


    “Thought you were tough? Let’s see you prove it now.” He signaled the others with a wave.


    “Get him!”


    “On it!” the men shouted.


    Fists rained down like hail—Ernest, trapped in the, was powerless to defend himself.


    “Argh!”


    Painnced through him with each blow; he gritted his teeth and braced.


    “Hit him harder!” someone urged.


    “What if we go too far?” one of them hesitated.


    “He’s not even from this country—we’ll be fine.”


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