Jane burst into Frederick’s office just as he was deep in discussion with Luke, the sharp slam of the door against the wall turning heads. She didn’t bother with pleasantries. Her eyes were wild, her voice tight. "I can’t reach her. The burner. We...we had one she used to call me every morning and..and....now she’s not picking up." Frederick straightened, every chart and plan he'd been reviewing falling away. "What do you mean you can’t reach her?" "I mean she’s gone, Frederick," Jane snapped, tossing her phone onto the table. "She told me she was going to stay at the old retreat home for medica for a few days. Said she needed air. But now...nothing. No calls. No texts. She was checking in every night, and now it’s silent." Luke frowned. "We should’ve had eyes on her." Frederick ran both hands down his face, something heavy curling in his gut. It had been only days since she moved back to the penthouse under contractual obligation, but the tension between them had pushed her furt
Amelia never heard the car. The soft hum of the engine was drowned out by the gentle hiss of rain against the rooftop. Inside the cottage, she'd just boiled water for tea, her fingers wrapped around the chipped handle of the old mug Frederick had insisted on sending with her belongings which turned out to be one of the few signs he still cared, even after everything. Her back was to the door, slippers padding softly on the floorboards as she moved around the small kitchen, unaware that just feet away, someone had killed the engine, stepped out, and crept toward her safe house like a shadow.The figure moved with calculated precision, dressed in dark layers, gloved hands steady, ear tuned to every creak of the wood. In the crook of one arm, a phone lit the gloom. “She’s here. Alone,” he murmured into it, voice low, emotionless. No names. No commands. Just confirmation. Then silence.The lock twisted quietly. Not loud enough to echo. Not loud enough to alert her. The front door creaked
Rain lashed against the windshield as Frederick’s car pulled up to Jane’s apartment. The city was tense tonight, its lights muted, the streets slick with something heavier than water. His jaw clenched as the engine idled, and for a moment, he just sat there, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to his sanity.She had vanished.Amelia. No message. No trace. Not a single clue, well, except for the images Luke had pulled. Surveillance stills of her stepping into a black car, guarded and calm. No panic. No distress. Voluntary.He stepped out into the cold, the wind biting through his coat. His strides were deliberate, hard. When Jane opened the door to her apartment, she looked at him like she had been expecting this visit, arms folded, her jaw set."Where is she?" Frederick asked.Jane raised a brow. "Do I look like your secretary?""She left without a word. And you think I won’t come here? You were the last person she was with.""And even if I was, Freder
PRESENT DAYThe morning sun broke gently through the thick curtains of the Blackwell penthouse, but there was nothing gentle about the storm brewing in Frederick’s mind. He hadn't slept. Not really. Not since the night Amelia had walked out of his office without looking back. He’d replayed the moment in a thousand different ways, remembering her face, stiff and unreadable, her body tense with betrayal. The silence she left in her wake had festered into something sharp. And now, she was gone.Luke stood near the windows, scrolling through his phone with the kind of measured calm Frederick envied. “Still nothing,” he said, breaking the heavy silence. “She’s not at Jane’s anymore. They say she hasn’t been seen at the clinic either.”Frederick rubbed a hand over his jaw. “She’s doing this on purpose.”“Maybe. Or maybe someone got to her first.”Those words hit harder than Frederick cared to admit. The threats. The crash. The tracker. The flash drive. The surveillance footage. All of it ha
SIX YEARS AGO The hotel room smelled faintly of rosewood and whiskey, and the bedsheets were already tangled around their legs. A single lamp cast a warm amber hue over the room, making the air feel hazy, intimate. Rain whispered against the windows like a lullaby for the city that never really slept. Amelia lay on her side, the silky strap of her lavender dress sliding further down her shoulder with every breath. Her cheeks were flushed, lips a little swollen from the kisses they'd already exchanged, and her eyes shimmered with tipsy mischief. One hand clutched the edge of the sheet over her chest. The other was folded under her cheek as she looked at him. "You still haven’t told me your name," she murmured. Frederick sat up slightly, his back against the headboard, chest bare and rising slowly. He smiled without answering right away. A lock of her hair fell over her face and he reached out to tuck it behind her ear, fingertips grazing her cheek. "Does it matter?" he asked.
The boardroom of Blackwell Empire was cloaked in tense silence, the kind that hummed beneath the surface like static before a lightning strike. Frederick sat at the head of the long obsidian table, hands clasped together, expression carved from stone. Amelia wasn’t here. She didn’t know yet. But he did. The clinic’s funding had been suspended. Luke stood by the window, arms crossed. Several board members exchanged polite, uncertain glances, waiting for Frederick to begin. Finally, he rose slowly from his seat, the scrape of his chair drawing all eyes. "Before we begin today’s agenda, I’d like to address a decision that was made without my approval or knowledge," he said, voice cool, but sharp enough to cut glass. "Amelia Hart’s clinic funding was revoked by the finance arm yesterday afternoon." A murmur spread across the room. "That clinic wasn’t just a PR initiative or a pet project. It was a lifeline to thousands of people in the community. And more importantly, it was part of