Chapter 11: Never Shy Away from Seeking Treatment for Mental Illness_1

In a quiet alley on Almeda Street South, the black Phaeton slowly came to a stop.

Nathalie Quinlan unbuckled her seatbelt, picked up her bag, and said to the man in the driver's seat, "Thank you."

Amadeus Yancey slightly lifted his chin, one hand resting on the steering wheel and the other propped against the car window, with a string of brown Buddhist beads winding around his fair wrist, like a lazy lion in captivity lying dormant. He glanced at the door on the sidewalk, saw nothing special about the place, and asked, "Do you want me to accompany you inside?"

Without a second thought, Nathalie Quinlan rejected the offer, "No need, I can go in by myself."

Amadeus Yancey narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

Eager to get rid of him, Nathalie closed the car door, waved her hand at him, and said, "Then, Amadeus, I am going in first."

"Alright."

Amadeus Yancey watched her confidently walk into the two-story white cottage and then pulled out his phone from the driver's seat.

He had lived in Beijing for a long time, but he knew the price of land around McKinney well.

The house Nathalie had just entered was located in the coveted southern district of the city. Any storefront in this commercial area demanded a handsome price, and a place like this, resembling a private studio, would be even more expensive.

Audrick Zachmann had told him that Nathalie's former foster parents were somewhat wealthy, but they treated her poorly and couldn't even bear to send her to a decent school.

How did she know about this place? And even looked like she frequents it?

He took a photo of the white cottage.

Soon after, a message came back.

[I know this place! It's a psychology clinic on Almeda Street, famous for its hard-to-get appointments! The fees they charge are also exorbitantly high. Amadeus, are you... experiencing psychological discomfort? If you have a psychological illness, you must not hide it and refuse treatment!]

[Get lost.]

After replying to the message with one hand, Amadeus Yancey raised an eyebrow and looked towards the door where the girl had entered.

A psychology clinic?

Expensive fees?

He had looked over Nathalie's information, which seemed ordinary, but after meeting her, she was nothing like how the information portrayed her.

He was about to reply to the message when suddenly, the phone's screen lit up with an incoming call.

Amadeus Yancey answered the phone, his voice deep and hoarse, "What's happened?"

"Amadeus, the young master, the young master is missing!"

His expression turned grim all of a sudden, his jawline as sharp as a knife tensed, no longer interested in the affairs of the psychology clinic. He started the car with force, spun the steering wheel, and said to the person on the other end, "Where are you?"

The black sedan dashed away—