LOGINADRIAN.The meeting with the detectives happened in Lolette's dining room.Strange, having a tactical briefing in a space where children ate breakfast. Where Ivan probably spilled juice and Ruslan corrected his table manners.Detective Morris stood at the head of the table, Richard and his team flanking him. Lolette sat across from me, her arms crossed. Lolette’s grandmother hovered near the doorway like a guard dog."Here's where we are," Richard said, his tone clipped and professional. "No physical evidence pulled from the house. Whoever did this was thorough. We're still canvassing the neighborhood, reviewing traffic cams, but so far—nothing."My gaze shifted as Lolette's jaw tightened, her shoulders tensing."Which means," Richard continued, "we need to shift strategy. Ms. Rayne, Mr. Emporio—you're both going back to New York.""What?" Her grandmother stepped forward. "She should stay here. With me. Where she's safe.""With all due respect, Mrs. Rayne, nowhere is safe right now."
ADRIAN.I stood in the doorway, my hand still on the knob.Two beds. One blue, one green. Bookshelves sagging under the weight of picture books and toy bins. Drawings everywhere—taped to the walls, pinned to a corkboard, one half-finished on a small desk by the window.Stick figures. "Mama" written in wobbly letters. "Russy." "Me."No "Daddy."Of course not.I made myself step inside.The room smelled like them. I didn't even know what that meant until now—that kids had a smell. Something sweet and clean, like soap and sunshine and that indefinable thing that just meant child.My children.The first bed had blue sheets, rumpled like someone had just gotten out. A wooden train sat on the nightstand next to a dinosaur book.Ruslan's.The other bed was green. Neater. The blanket pulled up almost to the pillow.On that pillow sat a stuffed tiger.Worn. Loved to death. The fur rubbed thin where small hands had gripped it.Mr. Stripes.I'd seen it in every video. Every photo. Ivan carried t
LOLETTE.Los Angeles shouldn't have felt this foreign.I'd lived here for five years. Built a life here. Raised my children here.But sitting in Adrian's rental car as we pulled up to my house, it felt like I was looking at someone else's life through a window.Yellow tape stretched across my front door. Police cars lined the street. Mrs. Bidale from next door stood on her porch with her arms crossed, staring. Probably hadn't moved from that spot since everything went down.I didn't blame her. Ten people had been murdered on this street.The sun was setting, casting everything in that golden California light I used to love. Now it just felt wrong. Too pretty for what had happened here."Lolette."I looked at Adrian. He'd barely spoken since we landed. He’d just driven with white knuckles on the steering wheel. "I'm fine," I said before he could ask."You don't have to—""I'm fine."I got out of the car.The front door opened before we made it halfway up the walk.Fanny.God, she looke
ADRIAN.Lolette sat in the seat ahead of mine, angled toward the window. She'd been like that since takeoff—staring at the clouds, then down at her phone, then back at the clouds again.We'd said everything that needed saying on the drive to the airport.Now there was just... this. Silence and the dull roar of the engine and two people who had no idea how to exist in the same space anymore.I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes.I was tired.But not as tired as work usually made me. That bone-deep exhaustion from back-to-back board meetings or closing deals that required eighteen hours straight of negotiation and political maneuvering.And it wasn't even just physical. It was mental. Emotional. And lately, social.I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling of the jet.When I was younger, I couldn't wait to take over Emporio Oil. Couldn't wait to prove myself, to step into my father's shoes, to build something that mattered. The company was legacy. Power. Influence.
LOLETTE.Richard's words hung in the air.I stood there, trying to make sense of it. Trying to connect the dots."They went after the security company directly," My hands clenched at my sides. "That's not just covering tracks. That's—""Calculated," He finished. "They knew exactly what to hit and when."The implications settled over me like ice water.Whoever had my children wasn't some desperate criminal who'd gotten in over their head. This was organized. Professional. Planned down to the last detail."How did they know?" I asked, my voice sharper now. "How did they know you were trying to get the footage? That we'd even contacted the company?"The investigators looked at each other.No one wanted to say it."They're watching," Adrian said finally, his voice coming out liek steel.I turned toward him, "You think they have someone on the inside?""I think they knew exactly when to strike." His jaw was tight. "That's not luck."A chill ran through me."This is ridiculous," Kaitlyn's v
ADRIAN.I gestured down the hall. Kaitlyn followed, her heels clicking sharp and angry against the marble floor.I shut the door behind us, and she immediately turned on me."Well?" Her arms were crossed again, chin lifted. Defiant.I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to find the right words. There weren't any.Best I bit the fucking bullet."Lolette and I... we have children together."Her face went completely blank. "What?""Twins. They're four years old."She just stared at me. Like she was waiting for the punchline. Like I'd just told her a joke she didn't understand."They were kidnapped a few days ago," I continued, forcing the words out. "That's why she's here. That's why we need to postpone."For a long moment, she didn't move. Didn't speak.Then her expression twisted into something ugly—disbelief mixed with fury mixed with hurt."You have children?" She hissed the words. "Children? With her?""Kaitlyn—""And you didn't think to tell me?" Her voice rose again. "We're suppose







