Ensnared by Mafia, Days and Nights
Chapter 47: Launching a Video Channel

Assistant Cooper's face turned ghostly pale, frozen in place as he considered calling the family doctor.

Henry Jefferson stepped toward him, his voice rough with urgency as he repeated his question, "Have you found her?"

"No, nothing yet."

Cooper handed over the report. "We've expanded the search to include M country, but still no sign of her. The experts believe..."

He hesitated, searching for the right words.

"What do they believe?" Henry demanded, growing impatient.

"They haven't ruled out the possibility that Miss Lambert might have committed suicide by jumping into the sea. After this long without any clues, they fear... the odds are not in her favor."

The room fell into a profound silence after Cooper's words; even the whistling of the wind outside seemed unusually clear.

After a moment, Henry burst into maniacal laughter, his breath heaving as if he were in the throes of an asthma attack, and between ragged breaths he managed, "Not in her favor? Quite the understatement, keep searching!" He suddenly grabbed a wine bottle and hurled it to the ground, shattering it and sending glass shards flying.

"I want proof of life or death. I will comb through every ocean on this planet if I must, but replace her!"

With that declaration, he stepped on the freshly shattered glass and strode out of the piano room, leaving a trail of blood behind.

...

Galdoria Island was a haven of eternal spring, and even in October, the weather remained delightful.

In a quaint, remote town on the island, past the clean, refreshing streets, a dance studio sat above a flower shop.

As the class ended, the girls chatted and packed up their belongings with joyful eagerness.

Giselle, the graceful instructor, bent down to listen to one of her students.

"Teacher, I didn't quite catch that move earlier; could I see it again?"

"Of course."

She carefully demonstrated the movement once more, and this time the girl nodded in understanding.

"Thank you, teacher."

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Once all the students had departed, Giselle descended to the flower shop on the ground floor, where her grandmother was dozing in a rocking chair.

The golden sunset bathed her grandmother's face in a gentle, benevolent light.

Giselle pulled up a small chair and sat beside her, leaning on the armrest of the rocking chair.

Feeling her granddaughter's presence, her grandmother raised a hand to caress her cheek. "My dear, was teaching exhausting today?"

"Not at all. If I'm with you, I never feel tired."

Her grandmother's face lit up with a smile, her wrinkles deepening with affection. "You always know just what to say."

Their conversation was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell as a customer entered the shop looking to buy flowers. Giselle stood up to attend to her.

"Miss Lambert, what time are you closing today?" asked the customer, a mother of one of the dance students and a neighbor who had become a friend through frequent visits. Giselle, selecting flowers, responded with a smile, "Whenever I feel like it."

She clipped off some dead stems. "The usual for today? Two eucalyptus roses and two manta roses?"

The woman nodded and leaned in to sniff the lilies, asking casually, "Giselle, you're so beautiful, do you have an Instagram account?"

Giselle paused, her hands still among the flowers, reminded of the social media account Henry had once forced her to delete.

It took a moment before she responded, and the woman thought she wouldn't answer. Finally, Giselle said, "No, why do you ask?"

"How can you not?" the woman exclaimed, moving closer. "Your dance moves are so precise, you're teaching so professional, and you're beautiful too. Why not use the internet to make some extra money?"

This sparked a new idea in Giselle. While running the dance studio and flower shop was profitable, it was nothing compared to the massive debt she owed to Henry.

With this debt looming over her, she lived each day in fear.

Settling their debts was the closure they both needed.

After arranging the flowers, she smiled and handed them to the woman, "The usual mix, water and nutrient solution three to one. Come back for fresh ones when these wilts."

The woman accepted the flowers, noticing Giselle's deliberate avoidance of the topic, and didn't press any further.

After she left, Giselle had a new plan in mind.