Faced with his fury, Quennel remained perfectlyposed.


    "Lionel, you need evidence to back up your words and actions. It''s not right for you toe here and use me without any proof. You can make wild ims, and by that same logic, I can im you did it. Am I wrong?"


    “I came here today to find that evidence. I will prove to Hannah that you were the one who kidnapped her."


    "Fine, fine. Go find your evidence. But if you can''t find anything, don''t you dare spread baseless rumors to Hannah. It wouldn''t do to ruin my good standing with her."


    Seeing Quennel''s flippant and arrogant demeanor, as if he were absolutely certain Lionel would find nothing, was infuriating.


    Lionel took a deep breath, shoved him away, and stalked off toward the abandoned house.


    Quennel stood where he was, smoothing out the wrinkles on his clothes, and watched him leave with a contemptuous smirk.


    Mary, who had been sitting quietly on the side, finally spoke up. "Are you sure you shouldn''t go with him? What if he actually finds something?"


    Quennel turned to his mother and tilted his head quizzically. “I didn''t kidnap anyone, so what could he possibly find? If he does manage to find something, it only proves he fabricated evidence to frame me."


    Mary slightly taken aback by his words. She had never expected him to lie so brazenly, and with such aposed expression.


    If she didn''t know what he had done, she would have genuinely believed he was being framed.


    However, since her son was so confident, the only thing she could do as a mother was to trust him unconditionally.


    Perhaps he had already nned everything out and didn''t need her to worry.


    Lionel walked toward the abandoned house, his mind racing. Quennel''s arrogant attitude reyed in his head, filling him with growing


    sense of unease.


    He had a sinking feeling that Quennel might have already destroyed all the


    incriminating evidence from the makeshift prison.


    If that were the case, finding proof would be nearly impossible.


    When he reached the abandoned property, he instinctively scanned his surroundings.


    Everything looked exactly as it had before, with no signs of disturbance. It seemed Quennel hadn''t been back here.


    Still, he couldn''t shake his anxiety.


    When he entered the cell where Sandra had been held, he saw the chains on the floor and the


    bloodstains on the surround


    surfaces. A wave of unease and sorrow washed over him.


    He couldn''t imagine the suffering Sandra had endured in this ce.


    But after searching the area for two or three hours, he found absolutely nothing. There were no cameras in the abandoned house, no footprints, nothing.


    It was strange. If they had beening and going, there should have been tracks.


    But there was nothing. This meant he had found zero evidence.


    "I thought you might have died in this old house. I''m surprised to see you''re still


    alive,” Quennel said with a smile as he walked over.


    "It was getting close to lunchtime, and when you hadn''t returned, I got worried, like a good older brother should. I came to check on you, so how did it go? Find any evidence?"