MasukRyan’s POVThe message from my informant comes just past midnight.A single buzz on my phone.Then another.Then the file transfer notification, the kind that only means one thing:He found something.I step out onto the balcony so I don’t wake Celeste. The night wind brushes across my face, cool and sharp enough to slice straight through the exhaustion of the day.A minute later, the files finish downloading.Photos. Surveillance clips. Receipts.And then, one image that punches the air right out of my lungs.Gideon.Sitting in a dimly lit lounge, velvet draped behind him, champagne glass in one hand.And Vanessa Abrams, leaning in so close her lips practically touch his ear, her smile the exact brand of poisonous sweetness I’ve seen a hundred times.My jaw tightens.Not surprise. Not even disgust.Just confirmation.I scroll through the rest, bank transfers, voice snippets, screenshots of her texts. Then the final file:Andre Cox – Avalon Club EscortGideon’s real face stares back at
Celeste’s POVBy the third morning, Bonnie’s fever holds steady. She’s still weak, still clinging to Molly’s hand as if it’s the only safe thing in the world, but she’s stable. And that, for now, is enough.I sit on the edge of the couch where she’s curled under a blanket. Her lashes are damp from sleep, her breathing shallow but even.I brush her hair back one last time and kiss her forehead.“Mom,” I call softly toward the kitchen. “Could you stay with her for a few hours? I need to go into the Atelier.”My mother turns, wearing her apron and that look, half concern, half gentle scolding.“Of course I’ll stay. You go. But don’t push yourself, Celeste. You’re stretched thin.”“I know,” I whisper, though I’m not sure I believe it. “Thank you.”She squeezes my arm, and somehow it steadies me more than I’d like to admit.At Rosemary, the air is humming.The moment I step off the elevator, I see Rachel bent over a tray of stones, loupe pressed to her eye, eyebrows drawn in concentration.
Celeste’s POVFor the first twelve hours, I did not leave Bonnie’s side.Her fever spiked, dipped, and threatened to rise again.She drifted in and out of sleep, small whimpers escaped her throat whenever the pain rolled through her. And every time she winced, something sharp pulled inside me, an old wound, buried deeper than I wanted to admit.I knew this pain.The ache of being a child who believed she was too difficult to love. And that was the part that was hardest to look at.By morning, when she finally slept deeply, her little fist still clutching the corner of Molly’s lavender blanket, I stepped out of the room and pressed my forehead to the hallway wall. I breathed. Slowly. Carefully.The way I used to teach myself when everything in my life was falling apart.She was safe. She was here. But the fear of what could have happened kept echoing behind my ribs.I called Rachel and told her I would not be coming in for the next few days. She did not ask why, her voice went soft, alm
Ryan’s POVI don’t remember the last time I felt this kind of dread.Maybe the night my mother died. Maybe every night after that. But tonight… Tonight it has Bonnie’s name on it.The moment Celeste hung up with Damien, I grabbed my jacket and keys. Molly was still half-asleep when I scooped her up and drove her to Claire’s. By the time I got back outside, the city felt like a maze made only of shadows and panic.Two hours missing.A child.A child who had been breaking for weeks under the wrong kind of attention, the wrong kind of love, the wrong kind of home.I couldn’t stop picturing her small face, angry, stubborn, trying so hard to be what Vanessa shaped her into. And now… alone.God.I drove every route between Damien’s mansion and the school, checked every bus stop, every corner store, every patch of park where kids sometimes waited for rides that never came.Nothing.I called every contact I had in private security, had three people sweeping the area within half an hour, and st
Bonnie’s POVI didn’t mean to run this far. I didn’t mean to stay out this long.But when Daddy yelled at me… when Vanessa looked at me like I was a bug she wanted to crush… my legs just moved. Fast. Faster than my brain.Now I’m here. On the cold corner near the playground with the broken swing.My knees are tucked up under my chin, and I’m trying to make myself really, really small so nobody sees me and asks questions.My jacket isn’t zipped right. My fingers keep slipping. They’re stiff and stingy, like tiny needles poking them.I thought running away would feel strong. Like in the cartoons. It doesn’t. It feels like my stomach is a big black hole.Across the street, under the yellowish streetlight, there’s a lady pushing a little girl on the swing.The girl is giggling, even though it’s late. The mom keeps saying, “Last push, sweet pea. One more!”Every time she says it, the little girl laughs harder.They look… warm. Like they’re wrapped together in the same invisible blanket.I d
Celeste’s POVThe shrill ring of my phone tore me from a half-dream, my chest tightening before I even looked at the screen. The name flashing across it was Damien. My stomach dropped.“Celeste… we can’t find Bonnie,” his voice came, frazzled, panicked, and raw. “She’s… she’s just gone. I’ve looked everywhere, and no one’s seen her. She’s been gone for over two hours.”I sat up so fast I nearly hit the headboard. “What do you mean, gone? Have you called anyone? The neighbors, her friends?”My voice was sharp, adrenaline already coursing through me.“I’ve called, I’ve searched, I—” His voice broke, frustration mingled with fear. “I don’t know where she could be.”A hand instinctively went to my chest. “Okay. I’m coming. I’ll start looking immediately.”Ryan stirred beside me, blinking blearily at the dim light of the bedroom.“Celeste…?” His voice was groggy, husky, still caught between sleep and awareness.“Bonnie’s missing,” I said, voice taut. “I have to go find her.”He was awake in







