?Chapter 946:


    Her brow furrowed. Probably some telemarketer, she figured, and ended the call without a second thought.


    People online had turned against her, and the sentiment had grown sour. Arge chunk of inte users were pointing fingers, iming she’d cheated on her husband with udius.


    Chris, unsurprised by the gossip, simply shrugged it off. He didn’t believe a word of it.


    While heading into the kitchen to get dinner started, Chris casually kept ncing toward Maia, staying alert. He found himself wondering whether Maxwell had taken care of the problem already.


    It had been one hell of a day for Maia—too much going on, too fast. Chris had already made up his mind: he’d take charge, get Ethan out safely, and keep Maia from having to stress over it.


    Right at that moment, her phone rang a second time. The same unfamiliar number showed up. She hesitated, then gave in and picked up the call.


    A harsh, low voice crackled through the line. “You’re Maia Watson, yeah? We’ve taken your brother, Ethan. If you want him in one piece, show up alone at this ce.”


    Ethan’s voice followed, shaky and nervous. He sounded scared, pressured. He recited an address.


    “Alright!” Maia replied instantly, not even stopping to think.


    “Don’t forget—43 Oak Street. And don’t bring anyone. If you do, he’s a dead man!” the man snapped before disconnecting. The line went dead, leaving beeping in her ear.


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    Maia looked over at Chris, who was still tied up with dinner prep, and moved toward him. “Something’se up at the MCN,” she said. “Pattie’s in a bind. I’ve got to go help out. Don’t bother waiting. Eat without me. I’ll reheat mer.”


    She turned on her heel, careful not to meet his eyes, and headed for the door. Chris stopped what he was doing. Her refusal to look at him said it all. He guessed the call hadn’t been harmless—it had to be the kidnappers.


    It seemed Maxwell hadn’t found them yet. Who could be behind the kidnapping of Maia’s brother at such a critical moment? Was the Cooper Group pulling the strings behind this?


    Chris yanked off his apron without a second thought and dialed Maxwell’s number.


    “Where do things stand?” Chris demanded, his voice low and tight, barely keeping his temper in check.


    “I was just about to reach out,” Maxwell replied. “Marisa caught one of the tes. We traced it to 43 Oak Street. It’s a rough neighborhood—no rules, no cops. I’m putting a crew together to go in.”


    “43 Oak Street?” Chris repeated, thrown for a second. “I’m on my way. If you spot Maia, hold her back.”


    The moment the call ended, Maxwell looked around and noticed something off—Marisa, who had arrived with him, had vanished. His gaze darted in all directions, panic creeping in, his eyes wide with rm.


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