The mug slipped from Alexander's trembling hand, shattering as it hit the marble floor with a sharp clang. His eyes blazed with fury, his face contorted with disbelief.
"No, no, no!" he spat, his voice echoing through the room.
The officials standing before him recoiled, their faces pale with fear. They had never seen the prince so incensed before.
"How could this have happened?" Alexander demanded, his voice rising with each word. "Where were her guards?"
"Your Royal Highness," one of the officials spoke up, his voice trembling. "Her Highness does not employ guards when traveling to the Royal Hospital. According to eyewitness accounts, a man in a thick overcoat and top hat stepped out of the carriage and attacked her. He then took her and fled in the carriage."Alexander's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight with anger.
"Is that all of it?! Did you find the carriage?"
The officials exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to answer the prince's question. Finally, one of them spoke up.
"Your Royal Highness, we have not yet found the carriage. The witness only saw it driving away in the distance, and we have not been able to locate it since."
Alexander let out a growl of frustration, pacing back and forth across the room. He couldn't believe this had happened to Penelope. She never had enemies, the people of the British Empire loved her, and even if Penelope rejected him, he still cared for her.
"Get me every available man in the Scotland Yard," he barked at the officials. "I want a search party organized immediately. We must find her…" he paused, as he realized something was off. According to his official report, Penelope was stabbed and was taken away. That was odd, why would the attacker stab and take her away? That makes no sense. If the attacker simply wanted to kill her, he would have left her body on the ground but he didn't.
So this means one thing. That Penelope could still be alive and the attacker is connected to her."Your Royal Highness? What was your order?" one of the officials asked carefully, not wanting to distract the prince from his thoughts.
Alexander snapped out of his reverie and turned to face the officials.
"Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts," he said. "Get me every available man in Scotland Yard. We need to find Penelope and figure out who did this to her. And make sure we bring her back alive."
The officials nodded and quickly left the room to carry out the prince's orders. Alexander was left alone with his thoughts, trying to piece together the events of the day.
While he was at it, he flickered his finger and the door opened, revealing a man donned in a robe. That man was his attendant, the one he ordered to look after a specific man who he had thought to be the reason why Penelope is not accepting his proposal.
"You were not on the day of the event right?" Alexander asked.
"Yes, Your Highness. I was thirty minutes late for my shift at the Royal Hospital that day," the man replied.
Alexander clicked his tongue. His attendant was the only one he had ordered to look after Penelope and to do so, he had made him apply for a position in the Royal Hospital as a nurse where he can look after her for him. But the fact that he was not at the time of the attack infuriated him.
"I need you to go to the hospital and gather any information you can about Penelope's condition before she was taken. Talk to the doctors, nurses, and anyone who was there. And bring back anything you find to me."
The attendant nodded and quickly left the room to carry out the prince's orders. Alexander was left alone again, pacing back and forth across the room, his mind racing with different possibilities of what could have happened to Penelope.
Two hours later, one of the officials returned to the prince's office.
"Your Royal Highness, the carriage that took Penelope and the attacker away from the Royal Hospital has been found."
Alexander's eyes gleamed with hope as he turned to face the official.
"Where was it found? Is Penelope with it?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.
The official hesitated for a moment before answering. "I'm afraid not, Your Royal Highness. The carriage was abandoned in an alleyway in the East End. It had been set on fire, and there was no sign of either Her Highness or the attacker."
Alexander's heart sank at the news. He had hoped that they would find Penelope alive and well with the carriage, but it seemed like they were back to square one.
He couldn't imagine what Penelope must be going through, being kidnapped and possibly injured. And if being kidnapped is one of the possibilities, then why the heck they are not receiving ransom? But is it truly their intention? Why did they stab her in the first place?
Alexander wrapped his hair around his fingers, deep in thought. All of this is making him insane, everything is not making sense to him.
"Your Royal Highness, we should look around the East End and find the coachman of the carriage. We already have eyewitnesses in the scene who saw where the man fled."
Alexander nodded in agreement with the official's suggestion. They needed to follow any leads they could get, no matter how small they may seem.
"Agreed," he said, his voice firm. "I want every available man searching the East End for any clues about Penelope's whereabouts…."
Just as he was giving out other orders, a man entered his office. Alexander looked up at the man and immediately recognized him. It was Penelope's father, the Prime Minister of the British Empire.
"Alexander…have you found any clues? I already have all our agents to look out for Penelope but there's still no luck…"
"Mr. Prime Minister…we did find the carriage used by the attacker to kidnap Penelope but she was not there. But rest assured, we are doing everything we can to find her."
"I still can't believe this…" The Prime Minister uttered, his voice breaking. "We were just having breakfast this morning and now this. My daughter...my little girl..."
Alexander could see the pain and worry etched on the Prime Minister's face. He stood up from his seat and walked over to the Prime Minister, and pressed his hand gently on his shoulder.
