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CHAPTER 47

Author: ilyon
last update publish date: 2026-10-15 03:49:15

PETER POV

The Grand Ballroom at the Plaza smells of stale champagne, expensive leather, and suppressed panic. Crystal chandeliers cast blinding refractions over hundreds of silk-clad predators waiting for the IPO bell to ring.

Richard stands at the podium, his smile a polished, presidential mask hiding a decaying core. Mary is positioned precisely two inches to his right, a diamond necklace glittering at her throat like frozen water. Charles hovers near the service entrance, his eyes darting ac
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    Peter POV"Pour another."The tumbler hits the mahogany bar with a sharp crack that sends amber scotch splashing over the rim and onto my knuckles."Mr. Vance, that's your fourth double in twenty minutes," Miller says, his hand hovering over the heavy crystal decanter like he expects me to lunge across the office and tear his throat out. "The quarterly earnings call is in forty minutes. The board is already downstairs.""Let them wait," I snap, my voice scraping against my throat like broken glass. "Let them sit in that glass-walled mausoleum and sweat until they pass out."I down the scotch in a single, burning swallow that hits my stomach like molten lead. It doesn't numb the ache behind my ribs. Nothing numbs it. Not the alcohol, not the millions moving through offshore accounts on my desktop monitor, not the deafening silence of the penthouse since she packed her single duffel bag and vanished into the rain.Twelve hours.Twelve hou

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    Peter POV"Pick up the damn phone, Anna."The automated carrier voice is the only reply, smooth and infuriatingly polite.I stab the red end button on the glass screen of my phone, the device burning hot against my palm inside the leather interior of the Bentley. The city outside blurs into streaks of neon and rain, the midnight traffic on the East River bridge crawling at a dead stop. Tenth time tonight. Tenth time straight to voicemail since she walked out of the penthouse twelve hours ago."Mr. Vance, we have the security logs from the lower lobby," Marcus says from the passenger seat, his tablet glowing with a harsh blue light that highlights the rigid lines of his jaw. "She didn't use her keycard at the turnstiles. She took the service freight elevator down around four in the morning.""I don't care about the logistics, Marcus," I snap, my teeth grinding together so hard my jaw aches. "I want to know where her transponder is. The emergency locat

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