I sat in silence for a long while after Sammy's story. My chest felt heavy, like someone had pressed a stone into my lungs. When Sammy wheeled back inside, Emily was standing at the investigation board, scribbling something with a marker in her hand.
I swallowed my pride and stepped closer.
"Umm… hey, Emily," I said softly. "I'm sorry… about earlier. I didn't mean it. I was just… pissed. Frustrated. You didn't deserve that."
She looked at me for a moment, then sat down in the chair facing me.
"I just wanted to help, Frederick. That's all I wanted to do."
"I know. And I'm sorry. What I said was uncalled for—stupid, selfish, the kind of thing you'd expect from me. Can you forgive me? And still help with the investigation?"
She sighed, but there was the smallest trace of a smile tugging at her lips.
"You're an idiot, you know that?"
I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah. A big one."
Sammy rolled closer with a smirk. "I, for one, haven't forgiven you. I'm hungry. Breakfast is on you. Let's go out."
"That hurts more than the apology," I joked.
"Where's Maxwell?" Emily asked.
"He followed his dad for some father-son meeting. He's taking over the company soon, so he has to know the ins and outs. Rich people stuff. He said he'd be back today—maybe in the evening."
Before Sammy could finish, three maids came in and bowed.
"Good morning, Mr. Samuel, Mr. Frederick, and Miss Emiliora."
Sammy raised a brow. "Your name is Emiliora?" he teased.
Emily's cheeks flushed red. "How the hell did you know that?"
One of the maids replied politely, "We aren't allowed to use nicknames, so we checked. We found your name on the schools platform"
"Maids using the internet?" Sammy gasped dramatically. "I've seen this movie before, and it doesn't end well for us. Especially me—I can barely outrun a five-year-old."
"What are you worried about?" I asked, grinning. "And what do you mean by running?" We both glanced at his wheelchair.
"Why, you little jackass!" he snapped, trying to grab me, but I dodged.
"I'll get you back for that," he growled.
"Stick with catching things within your reach," I laughed.
Ignoring me, he turned to the maids. "Okay, dears. Let's talk about breakfast." He lifted his hands, and two of them held on while the third pushed him from behind.
I shook my head, watching them roll off. "Can't believe he stole our maids too. He really knows how to blend into this rich lifestyle."
The four of them faded down the hall, laughing at something Sammy must have cracked. The tension in the room loosened, just enough for the air to feel lighter.
After breakfast, we gathered again at the board. Emily frowned, arms crossed.
"Urrgh… there's really nothing to go on here. I've been staring at this for days, and we still don't have anything solid. No leads. Nothing to explain why your mom vanished."
Sammy sighed and scratched his head before dropping it on the desk like he'd given up.
"So what do we do? Sit here and wait for someone to drop a clue in our laps?" Emily asked.
"No," Sammy said firmly. "We retrace her steps. Where did she usually spend her time? Where did she work?" He looked at me expectantly.
I blinked, thinking. My mind went back to the afternoons when Mom came home with boxes, fabrics, and catalogs.
"She sold accessories. Jewelry, scarves, little things like that. But she didn't make them herself—she had a supplier."
"What kind of supplier?" Emily asked.
"Her name was Madam Natalia," I said slowly, the memory sharpening. "She's hard to forget. Middle-aged, always wore too much perfume, mole on her nose. She used to come by the house sometimes."
"Then that's where we start," Sammy said.
The next day, we tracked Madam Natalia down to her shop. It was tucked in a corner street, the kind of place where glass displays reflected cheap neon signs. Inside, the air smelled faintly of roses and dust. Natalia stood behind the counter, sorting bracelets.
She looked up as we entered, her sharp eyes narrowing.
"Freddy?" Her voice carried a mixture of surprise.
"You remember me?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
"Of course. So, what brings you here? Did your mom send you? Though I don't know… we usually saw each other on the last Tuesday of every month."
"Ma'am, the thing is…" I hesitated, my throat tightening. "My mom is missing. The only thing she left behind was a note. I need your help—you're the only one she met with regularly."
She stepped out from behind the counter, adjusting her glasses. "Am I hallucinating, or did I hear you correctly?"
"It's true. His mom is really missing, and we need your help," Sammy cut in.
"If this is a prank, Freddy, it's not funny."
"This isn't a prank, ma'am," Emily added quickly. "The sooner we know what you know, the better."
"Then why are you here and not at the police?" Natalia asked, frowning.
"Because we haven't told them," I admitted.
"You've got to be kidding me!" she snapped. "What are you three doing? Playing detectives?"
"We're trying to protect Freddy," Sammy shot back. "We can't risk his mom's pursuers knowing she had a son. And if they already knew, they'd have taken him long ago."
Natalia's expression softened a little. "Oh, Freddy. Your mom always told me how smart you were. Don't tell me she was wrong. Even if you find them, what can you do? You need the police. They're trained for situations like this—years of drills and experience. Not underage kids trying to play Sherlock Holmes."
Her words cut deep. She was right. I should have told the police. More hands on deck would've been better. They'd ask questions, sure, but if I answered with enough truth—and maybe some tears—they wouldn't suspect me. Then I could continue investigating my own way.
We left without much to go on. Natalia cooperated, but it wasn't anything useful. My mom never stayed long after their meetings. All Natalia gave us were some pieces of jewelry Mom had made.
Emily held one up. Her eyes widened.
"Woah… this looks like something I've seen recently."
"Hey, Freddy, you sure your mom made this?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I don't think Madam Natalia had a reason to lie."
Sammy's eyes lit up at that word.
"Recently," he repeated, almost under his breath. He leaned forward, gripping his wheelchair. "That's it. Maybe she didn't disappear because of something from the past. Maybe it's because of something she started now."
The pieces slammed together in my head. I froze, remembering the way Mom reacted when the word Warp resurfaced—how pale she went, how her voice shook, like it was a ghost she thought she'd buried.
"If that's true," I said, voice low, "then whatever took her wasn't random. It's connected. To Warp.
"WARP? Are u sure? What does warp have to do with ur mom". Sammy asked.
"It's a long story let's get back first." I replied.
Emily swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper.
"Then that means… finding Warp is the only way to find her."
My stomach turned cold. For the first time, I felt like we were standing at the edge of something bigger—something darker than we'd ever imagined.
Mom hadn't just disappeared.
She'd been pulled into a storm.
And Warp was at the center of it.