23

It was past eleven o’çlock in the night, the atmosphere in the sitting room was stagnant, intense with the scent of Richard’s scotch and the biting tension of a man pushed to his limit of alcohol.

Richard stood by the fireplace, his shadow stretched long across the floor. When the front door slammed and Chase’s footsteps echoed in the foyer, Richard didn't turn. He waited until chase drew close enough.

Chase strolled in, tossing his car keys onto a side table. He looked ruffled, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, smelling of a club and a woman’s perfume that definitely didn't belong to Giselle. He stopped dead when he saw his father.

"Still up, Dad? It’s late for a lecture," Chase said, reaching for the decanter.

"Did you find her?" Richard’s voice descended into a low, dangerous rumble.

Chase paused, a glass halfway to his lips. He let out a dry, mocking laugh. "Wait—you were actually serious about that? You really expected me to spend my day playing hide-and-seek with Giselle?"

Richard turned slowly, his eyes flashing with a cold fire that should have made Chase flinch. "Do I look like I’m joking? Did I sound like I was laughing when we spoke on the phone?"

Chase downed the drink in one go and slammed the glass back onto the tray. "You must be kidding. You know exactly how strained things are between us. Dad! In case you missed the memo, I don't want her. Why on earth would I go chasing her or know where she’s hiding? She’s probably out looking for sympathy."

"Be reasonable for once in your life!" Richard roared, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. "She is your wife! She is a human being who left this house in distress, and you’re acting like she’s a misplaced set of keys!"

"Stop meddling in my affairs!" Chase shouted back, stepping toward his father. "This is on you. If you hadn't interfered in the divorce proceedings, she’d be gone legally and quietly. I wouldn't have to deal with her 'disappearance' because she wouldn't be my problem anymore. You forced her to stay, you pressured her, and now you’re surprised she bolted?"

Richard took a step forward, his physical presence looming over his son. "I blame myself," Richard hissed. "I spoiled you so rotten that you’ve grown into a man with no sense of responsibility. You have no idea what is at stake. You think this luxury—this house, the cars, the money you squander on your whores—is a birthright? It’s a privilege. And if the press gets a whiff of this messy divorce during the merger, that privilege will be next to nonexistent."

"The press doesn't care about my marriage, Dad."

"They care about scandals! They will defintely care about the suspicious way a  Hemingway wife went missing or worse case scenario claiming abuse!" Richard grabbed Chase by the lapel, his face inches from his son’s. "Hold it together, Chase. At least until the new company is stable. Find her. Bring her back. Play the part as her fucking husband."

Chase wrenched himself free, straightening his jacket with a sneer. "At this point, I don't give a fuck about the merger. But for what it’s worth, I tried calling her. Happy? Her phone is switched off. I guess she’s at one of her friends' places, crying into a bottle of cheap wine."

Richard’s eyes narrowed. "Which friend?"

"How should I know?"

"You're going to find out. You are going to get in your car and go to her friend’s place and bring your wife home."

Chase rolled his eyes, pacing the room with an agitated energy. "I don't know her friends, Dad! I saw them at the wedding three years ago and that is too much memory to recall. I haven't seen them since. I know there’s one... Serayah? Sarah? Something like that. I don't know where she lives. I don't know her last name. I didn't marry her friends."

"You are unbelievable," Richard whispered, the disgust in his voice palpable. "You are a terrible husband. You don't even know who she talks to? Who she trusts? How do we know she’s even safe? How do we know something hasn't happened to her out there?"

Chase let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "Is she a child? No! Agh! I don't care if something happened to her. Honestly? I wish something would happen to her. It would be a lot cleaner than a divorce. No alimony, no proceedings, no 'interfering' from you or threats about the fucking press. If she disappeared for good, we’d all be better off."

The sound of the slap was like a gunshot.

Chase’s head snapped to the side. He stumbled back, his hand flying to his reddening cheek. The room went deathly silent.

"If you won't fix your mess like a mature man," Richard said, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and something deeper, "then I will fix it my own way. Since you are incapable of caring for what is yours, I will step in and wipe clean you stanky butt like I always have."

Chase looked up, his eyes watering from the sting, a bitter smirk forming on his face. "Go ahead then, Dad. If you want her so badly in this house, you go find her. You’ve always been better at being the 'great Richard Hemingway' anyway. Why don't you take her? Save the merger. Save the day. I’m fucking going to bed."

"Give me her number," Richard commanded.

"Check your iMessage," Chase spat, pulling his phone out and tapping the screen aggressively. "I just shared the contact. Have fun playing the hero. Just don't expect a thank you when she comes back, oh fuck that bitch. I am going to bed please."

Chase turned on his heel and marched out of the room, his footsteps heavy as he climbed the stairs.

Richard stood alone in the silence of the sitting room. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the contact card for Giselle. He stared at her name on the screen. He thought of her face in the garden, the way she had looked at him with so much desire in her eyes back in the room.

He didn't call the number. He knew it was off. Instead, he walked over to the desk and opened his laptop. He had her phone number now. That meant he could track the last pinged location. He needed to make a quick call to someone who could help him.

"I'm coming for you, Giselle," he whispered, his grip tightening on the phone.