04. THE WIFE WHO DISAPPEARED

Clara stumbled through the gala’s grand entrance, the sound of laughter and camera shutters following her into the night.

Her dress was soaked with wine. Her cheek burned where Scarlett had slapped her. Every breath felt too shallow, as though the humiliation inside the ballroom had followed her beyond its doors.

She needed to get away.

Not tomorrow.

Not after Damien’s lawyers prepared the divorce papers.

Now.

A taxi was waiting near the curb. Clara hurried toward it, clutching her purse against her chest.

“Please,” she said as she opened the door. “Take me anywhere. Just get me away from here.”

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

“Are you all right, miss?”

“Please. Just drive.”

Clara pressed a hand against her abdomen.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

The taxi moved through the city streets.

A few minutes later, the driver glanced at the rearview mirror again.

“Miss, I think someone is following us.”

Clara lifted her head.

“What?”

The driver looked toward the road behind them.

“A black car. It’s been behind us since we left the hotel.”

Clara turned toward the rear window.

A black sedan followed several car lengths behind.

Her heart began to race.

“Maybe it’s just another car.”

Clara’s fingers tightened around her purse.

“Can you drive faster?”

The driver pressed his foot against the accelerator.

The taxi sped through the dark streets.

The black sedan followed.

Clara looked behind them again. The car was closer now, its headlights glaring through the rear window.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, go faster.”

The driver turned onto the eastern highway.

The road ahead was nearly empty. Beyond the guardrail, the river reflected the distant city lights.

The sedan surged forward.

“Hold on!” the driver shouted.

He swerved to avoid a vehicle ahead, attempting to overtake it.

Clara screamed as the taxi veered toward the guardrail.

The tires screeched.

The driver fought to regain control, but the car struck the barrier with a violent impact.

For one suspended moment, Clara felt weightless.

Then the taxi plunged into the river.

The cold water swallowed the car.

Clara’s scream disappeared beneath the surface.

Water rushed through the broken windows. The taxi tilted as it sank, and Clara struggled against the seat belt.

Her hands shook as she tried to release the buckle.

The water rose around her.

She could barely see.

Her lungs burned.

And then there was nothing.

***

Scarlett was sprawled across the leather sofa in Damien’s penthouse, her bare legs tangled with his. Her dress lay discarded on the floor beside his suit jacket, and her fingers traced lazy circles across his shoulders.

A soft moan escaped her lips as Damien kissed her neck.

“Damien,” she whispered, pulling him closer. “Tell me you won’t let anything come between us again.”

He lifted his head and looked at her.

“Nothing will.”

Scarlett smiled against his mouth.

“Not even your ex-wife?”

Damien’s expression cooled.

“Don’t mention her.”

“But she’s still your wife until the divorce is finalized.”

“Not for much longer.”

He kissed her again, cutting off whatever else she might have said.

Then someone pounded on the office door.

Damien ignored it.

The pounding came again, harder this time.

“Damien! Open the damn door!”

Derek.

Damien swore under his breath.

“What the hell does he want now?”

Scarlett clutched his arm, annoyance flashing across her face.

“Can’t you tell him to leave us alone?”

Damien reached for his discarded trousers.

“Apparently, my brother has forgotten how to respect a closed door.”

He barely had time to pull them on before the door flew open.

Derek stood in the doorway, his face pale with fury.

“Get dressed,” Derek snapped.

Damien frowned.

“What?”

“I said, get dressed!”

Scarlett sat up abruptly, pulling a cushion against her chest.

“Derek! Have you lost your mind?”

“Shut up, Scarlett.”

Her mouth fell open. No one spoke to her that way. Not even Damien.

“Watch your mouth,” Damien warned, stepping between them. “Whatever your problem is, you can wait five minutes.”

Derek stared at him as if he were looking at a stranger.

Then he crossed the room and punched him.

The impact sent Damien stumbling sideways into the desk. A glass toppled over, shattering against the floor.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Damien roared.

Derek grabbed the front of his shirt.

“Clara is missing!”

The words cut through the room.

Damien stopped struggling.

For a second, he simply stared at his brother.

“What did you say?”

“Clara is missing.”

Derek released him with a shove.

Damien straightened, touching his split lip. His expression shifted from anger to confusion.

“What do you mean, missing? Where is she?”

“Where the hell do you think she is?” Derek shot back. “She left the gala. She took a taxi. And now that taxi has gone into the river.”

The room fell silent.

Even Scarlett stopped moving.

Damien stared at his brother.

“Into what river?”

“The river off the eastern highway!”

“How do you know that?”

“Because the police just called!” Derek’s voice cracked with rage. “They found the taxi submerged beneath the water. The driver hasn’t been recovered, and neither has Clara.”

Damien shook his head.

“No.”

Derek laughed bitterly.

“No? That’s your response?”

“She could have gotten out.”

“The car was almost completely submerged when rescue teams arrived!”

“She could have escaped before it sank.”

“They searched the river, Damien!” Derek stepped closer. “They searched, and they found nothing.”

Damien looked toward the door as if Clara might suddenly walk through it, furious and alive, demanding an explanation.

She couldn’t be missing.