177JOANA’S POVCaleb was beside him, laughing at something a guest had said, but even from across the room, I could feel it.That aura.That energy.Clinton wasn’t just present.He was the presence.“Mommy, guess what?” Mirabel chirped, her curls bouncing. “It was Daddy’s idea! He planned everything!”My eyes slowly returned to her face.“What?” I asked quietly.Jake nodded so hard his curls flew. “Uh-huh! Daddy planned it all! He said it had to be perfect!”Japheth grinned and added proudly, “He even picked the cake himself. Triple chocolate fudge.”I stared at them. Then, over at Clinton again.He was still watching.Still smiling.But there was something else there now.Not pride.Not amusement.Something… deeper. Sadder. Like he’d poured his soul into this, but wasn’t quite sure he had the right to be proud of it.“Daddy said no talking to you about it,” Jake continued like he was telling a simple fact. “He also said keeping the whole thing secret made it more fun.”“And he got h
176JOANA’S POVI tried again, this time sending a rapid-fire group message:“Where are the kids? The house is empty. No one is answering. If this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny.”No read receipts.My breath hitched. Hands trembled.This couldn’t be happening.I stormed toward the garage, heart now hammering. Both security cars were still parked. Only my car was missing—because I had taken it.Had someone come and take them? Would they have left on foot?Impossible.The estate was too secure. Too guarded. And still…Why was the house completely empty?No trail. No sound. No signs of a struggle. Just… nothing.After walking back in, I stood still in the living room, trying to understand the quiet.I was unable to escape the fear that worked around me like a stormy wave.Something was wrong.Horribly wrong.And suddenly, everything that had felt okay—the peace, the laughter, the little moments of healing—began to feel like a setup.It was much like a peaceful time before a major s
175JOANA’S POV A week passed, and for the first time in a long time, it actually felt like a week—not a war zone compressed into seven days.Louisa had vanished into silence, which suited me just fine. Clinton kept his space, respectfully distant. He didn’t hover, didn’t ask questions, didn’t give me that look of longing that made breathing difficult. And Caleb... he was like air—there, vital, soft in presence but deeply grounding.We were learning from each other in a way I never thought possible—through shared coffee, knowing glances, and quiet moments that didn’t demand more than what we could give.Life was beginning to settle again, like dust after a storm.But of course, life is never that generous for too long.Today was already a disaster—and it wasn’t even noon.My heels clicked sharply as I rushed through the hallway of the downtown office, nerves frayed, chest tight. I was thirty-five minutes late for a meeting with one of the most high-profile clients I’d ever landed, an
174 JOANA’S POV Slowly, the morning sun came into my room, filtering through the barely opened curtains and spreading soft gold on the silk of my sheet. I was motionless, attempting to recall moments from yesterday—the talk with Louisa - the ugly things I said and the quietness that remained afterwards. For the first time in days, I felt... quiet. Not empty. Not confused. Just still. I leaned forward, ruffling my hair until I got the robe from the edge of the bed. My face brimmed with a soft smile. Maybe I was putting together the parts of myself I hadn’t seen for a while during the mess. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. “Dinner tonight? Just us. No interruptions. Just a little peace… and you.” I looked at the message, unsure what emotions to have. To hide. To guard the heart that had already been bruised, burned, and buried beneath too many disappointments. But the other part—the one finally waking up again—wanted to say yes. And that was the part I
173JOANA’S POVHer apartment was tastefully furnished—or at least trying too hard to be. It screamed curated elegance, but beneath the surface, it felt like a museum of someone else's taste. A collection of designer pillows she probably couldn’t even pronounce. I wondered if she had ever sat on this couch or if it was just for show. A life built on appearances. Just like her.I sat on the couch, took a leg across my knee, and put my hands together in my lap. My fingers did not shake, and I kept my smile simple.Not a crack to be found. It unnerved people when you were too calm. Especially when they expected a storm.As she shut the door, her steps made a soft clicking noise as I looked at her on the polished floor.“Coffee sounds great, or are you better with tea?” she asked, smiling so kindly you would never guess the knife she held.“No, thank you.” I smiled brighter. “I’m not staying long. I'm just here to talk.”She gave a single, amused huff and walked over to the sideboard. Her
172JOANA'S POVCaleb stepped forward, brows furrowed. “How did your assistant find you?”“He tracked my location when I didn’t show up for the next meeting. Said he felt something was off. When he got to the villa, I was passed out on the couch. He found something in my drink—traces of sedatives. He took me straight to get tested.”“And Louisa?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.“Gone,” he said bitterly. “No trace. The resort staff said she checked out early this morning.”I wanted to believe him.God, I wanted to believe him.But every instinct in me screamed caution. We had been here before. Trusting too easily, letting too much slide. And I couldn’t afford that anymore—not with the kids, not with myself.“You expect me to believe she drugged you and disappeared just like that?” I said, still reeling.“I won’t lie about it,” he said in a broken voice. “Not about Mirabel. I didn’t even know what was happening until I got the hospital alert on my smartwatch. That’s how I found my way back.