Chapter 257

On the way back to Orenth, a bus coming from the opposite direction lost control, smashed through the guardrail, and hurtled into their lane. Theodore’s car, unable to avoid the collision, was sent careening off the bridge, plunging into the river below along with the bus.
Penelope was stunned into silence for a long moment. “He
“The river current is very strong, ma’am. Mr. Stapleton and several passengers from the bus were swept away. A search and rescue operation is underway.”
“He… he knows how to swim.”
“Ma’am, you’re the only one I can call. Mrs. Stapleton’s mental state has been fragile lately, and Mr. Stapleton has a heart condition. You… you have to be strong.”
“Of course I’ll be strong. He’s… he’s going to be fine.”
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Stapleton will be fine. I’ll keep you updated as soon as I have any news. Please, just wait at home.”
After Harold hung up, Penelope frantically looked for her phone, turning her room upside down before realizing it was already in her hand. She laughed and tapped her forehead, then dialed Theodore’s number. She needed to ask him what happened, when he would be back. He couldn’t miss the wedding.
She called once. No answer. She called again. Still no answer.
She was about to get angry with him when she remembered: he had fallen into a river. His phone was at the bottom of the river. It wouldn’t work…
Penelope laughed again, a hollow sound that only highlighted the foolishness of what she had just done. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, and called Harold back.
“Was he driving alone?”
“How many rescue teams are on site? What’s the progress of the search?”
“What are the most urgent needs right now?”
After getting the information she needed, she asked Harold to send her the exact location.
“Ma’am, are you coming here?”
“Of course.”
Penelope grabbed her bag and phone and left. On her way out, she made another call, this time to Michael.
…
In the car, Michael was pacing in his seat, running his hands through his hair.
“Hogan, can you go any faster?”
“How much longer until we get there?”
“Why hasn’t Harold called back with any news?”
He was a nervous wreck, muttering to himself, unable to sit still. But while he was
falling apart, Penelope was on the phone, her voice calm and steady.
“The most critical needs are underwater search drones, side-scan sonar, and inflatable rescue boats.”
“Don’t tell me how much time you need. I’ll say this once: get them there as fast as you possibly can. Money is not an issue.”
“I’ll provide updates as they come in. Keep your phone on.”
When she finally finished her call, Michael leaned over to comfort her. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Mrs. Stapleton had a fortune-teller read Theodore’s future. He’s a blessed man, destined for a long, healthy life, free of disaster. Don’t worry too much, he-”
“Mr. Jackson, could you perhaps take a nap?” Penelope interrupted.
“A nap? How can I possibly sleep at a time like this? I—”
“Or perhaps just be quiet.”
Michael fell silent. He watched as Penelope immediately made another call.
“I asked you to get help from the local village committee. What did they say?”
Watching her, so calm and
her so
methodical in her arrangements,
Michael suddenly remembered:
Theodore and Penelope’s marriage.
wasn’t a typical one. They weren’t
marrying for love; it was a
partnership.

It was because there were no feelings involved, he realized, that she could be so composed. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs ~net
Following Harold’s directions, they arrived at the rescue command post just afternoon. Penelope stared at the sight before her: the bus, nose-dived into the riverbed; the car, almost completely submerged with only a single rear wheel visible above the water, and the bodies being pulled from the river, one after another. Only then did the full, horrifying reality of the accident sink
in.
She managed to hold herself together, but Michael was already shouting, his voice
raw with panic.