"Boss, we've checked all international flights. There's no sign of Young Master Grant or his private jet. We've conducted a city-wide search and found nothing. It's like he's vanished into thin air."
At this news, Herman Hawthorne shot to his feet.
"Young Master Hawthorne, did you find him?" Nora Ainsworth pressed.
A sudden smile broke across Herman Hawthorne's face. "Based on this, I'd bet that nine times out of ten, Young Master Grant is still here, and not far from us."
Ethan Ellsworth's tense nerves eased slightly. "I don't want 'nine times out of ten.' We need to confirm he's safe and sound. A false alarm is one thing, but getting our hopes up for nothing is the worst."
"There are only a few hundred rooms here. It should only take an hour to search them. Who's in?"
Chloe Marshall answered, "Of course we are! We won't rest until we find Young Master Grant!"
Herman Hawthorne opened the door. "Let's go. We'll start with our floor."
