Ch-11

•~•Third Person POV

It was already midnight, and the kidnappers who had taken Aziel still hadn't called back. The cops were just as useless as when she had first arrived in Paris.

Melissa had arranged for a small penthouse to stay in while the search continued.

She stood near the fireplace, fingers curled tightly around a crystal glass, the golden liquid inside barely touched.

Across from her, Dominic—a man she had kept on her payroll for years—stood stiffly, his head slightly bowed, waiting for her orders.

The dim light of the study cast long shadows across the room, but Melissa barely noticed.

Her fingers drummed against the glass in her hand—slow, deliberate—a steady rhythm betraying the storm beneath her composed exterior.

“Find him.” Her voice was cold, sharp. “Search the entire damn city if you must. I don’t care how long it takes—just find my son and the bastards who took him.”

Dominic hesitated. “Ma’am, wouldn’t it be best to leave this to the cops?”

Melissa slowly turned, her gaze like a blade. “The cops?” A short, humorless laugh escaped her lips.

“You mean the same dimwits who couldn’t find a single lead on how he disappeared from a high-security hospital?” She tilted her head. “Tell me, Dominic, do I look like a woman who relies on idiots?”

He straightened immediately. “No, ma’am. My apologies. I only meant to be realistic. If we search all of Paris for Mr. Grant, time won’t be on our side. Those bastards might hurt him… or worse.” He hesitated before adding, “Wouldn’t it be better to set up bait?”

Melissa swirled the whiskey in her glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light.

Bait.

Her chest tightened.

This fear—this sick, twisting fear she felt—wasn’t about Aziel’s life.

It was about what would happen if he died. If those bastards killed him.

Not only would she lose the Lancasters as in-laws, but she would have no one else left to play Nathaniel.

A chill crawled up her spine.

And if the investors discovered that for the past five years, she had been parading her other son—the one they believed to be in a coma—as Nathaniel, everything would come crashing down.

No. She couldn't let that happen.

Her fingers tightened around the glass.

She had worked too hard—far too hard—to get the company back on its feet. Having Aziel marry Solane Blackwood in Nathaniel’s name had been the final push she needed to stabilize everything.

And now, just when things were finally falling into place, the idiot had to go and get himself kidnapped.

Melissa’s jaw clenched.

She had to save him. At all costs. Too much was on the line if he died.

She exhaled slowly, then turned to Dominic, steadying herself before speaking.

“What bait are you suggesting?”

“We give them what they want,” Dominic said. “The money. But we put a tracker on it. Once they take the ransom, we follow them back to their hideout.”

Melissa hummed, rolling the idea around in her mind. It was smart. Simple. Efficient.

And far better than waiting for those fools at the police station to magically figure something out.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Fine… but I don’t want the cops involved.”

Dominic hesitated. “Ma’am—”

“No cops,” she repeated firmly, turning away. “I don’t want this turning into a circus. More importantly, I want to handle those bastards myself.”

And when she did…

They would learn what it meant to cross Melissa Grant.