But there was still no sign of Blanche.
Eddy was running out of options. Finally, he decided to gamble everything on one desperate move—risking it all in the hope of a miracle.
A video of Eddy Simmons' last will and testament spread rapidly across the internet.
In the video, Eddy lay in an ICU hospital bed, his entire body draped in sterile sheets, an oxygen mask covering his face. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling; every word seemed to cost him a painful effort, each sentence broken by harsh, ragged breaths.
He said, "I agree to divorce my wife. But I'm too ill to care for my son. I hope custody will go to her."
"I ask the court to do everything possible to contact my wife."
A staff member recording his will replied, "We'll do our best to reach Mrs. Blanche. If we can't, after your passing, young Healy will be placed in foster care."
Agony flickered in Eddy's eyes. His slender hand gripped the pen, trembling as he signed the divorce papers.
He looked into the camera. "Honey, whatever you want, I'll do it—even if it means letting you go."
"I love you, and I always will."
The scene moved everyone in the room to tears. One staffer, voice choked with emotion, pleaded, "Mrs. Blanche, if you see this video, please contact the Novandria Family Court as soon as possible. If anyone knows where Mrs. Blanche is, please let us know so we can finalize the divorce and settle the matter of the child's custody."
Still, Blanche never appeared. No one heard from her.
Healy was sent to foster care, and Eddy vanished from sight.
No one knew whether he was alive or dead.
Some whispered that, after losing the woman he loved, Eddy wasted away in regret and finally lost his mind.
Others claimed they'd seen him at a monastery, crawling up its nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine stone steps on his knees, praying for his beloved wife's safety.
There were even rumors that Eddy had stormed government buildings and military airfields with a group of men and had been arrested.
Speculation ran wild, but in time, the once-adored couple—Eddy and Blanche—faded from public memory.
Three months later, Loraine finally found Eddy on a remote island. He hadn't eaten or slept for days; he was a shell of the man he'd once been—unkempt beard, hollow cheeks, nothing left of the dignified CEO of the Simmons Group.
Loraine watched her son spiral further into madness and felt her own heart breaking. "It's my fault. I never should've drugged you or let Jeannette…"
"When Jeannette gave birth to Lara, I should have switched the children. Then Laney would have had her daughter, and none of this pain would've happened." Eddy's voice was thick with regret. "She never would have left me."
"Jeannette didn't deserve to live—she begged me to let her keep the child a few more years, begged me so hard, and I agreed. Why did I agree?" He clutched an old photo of Blanche from her youth, his anguish overwhelming him as he collapsed against the gravestone, lips pale as he murmured, "Why did I agree? I should have switched the children. I knew Clara wouldn't survive—I had everything arranged. Seeing Laney so happy and hopeful every day, I could've made her even happier."
"Laney's sudden fall and the emergency surgery—that wasn't something you could have planned for…"
"No. If I hadn't agreed to Jeannette's request—if I hadn't gone to be with her when she gave birth, if I'd stayed home with Laney, Laney wouldn't have fallen down the stairs." Eddy was consumed by grief and remorse; his eyes were bloodshot, trembling uncontrollably. The photo in his arms was his only comfort. "Darling, where are you?"
A hot wind whipped up the dust, sunlight glinting off the scars etched deep in his eyes.
No matter how far he had to go, he would find her.
Suddenly, the bodyguard's phone vibrated. "Sir, it's the kidnappers calling."
Eddy sprang to his feet, snatching the phone. He nearly screamed into the receiver, his voice raw with desperation, "Just don't hurt her—name your price, I'll pay anything!"
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