Se connecterBETTYNathaniel is sitting at the far end of the back seat, his body angled toward the window while his hand remains wrapped around his phone so tightly that his knuckles are beginning to pale beneath the strain.He looks trapped somewhere deep inside his own head. And it has been that way since I woke up from my nap on the plane.The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was warmth. Which immediately confused me because I distinctly remember freezing before I fell asleep.Then I noticed the pillow tucked carefully beneath my head, and the fleece blanket covering me from my chest down to my legs.I sat up so fast my neck almost protested.“What in the...” I whispered to myself, blinking against the dim cabin lights because for a second, I genuinely wondered whether I somehow did all that in my sleep.Then I remembered the laptop that had been balanced on my lap before I drifted off, and my eyes darted around the cabin immediately until I spotted it resting beside me instead.Clo
NATHANIELThe cabin is quiet now except for the engines humming beneath us and the occasional shift of turbulence against the walls.I stare out through the oval window beside me, watching nothing except darkness stretching endlessly beyond the plane.New York is almost beneath us now.And despite everything happening tonight, despite Rhys missing and the growing feeling in my gut that something is terribly wrong, my eyes keep drifting toward the exact thing I have been trying hardest not to look at.Betty.At some point during the flight, exhaustion must have finally dragged her under because her head rests awkwardly against the window while strands of dark hair spill across the seat around her like ink spreading over silk.Her laptop is balanced on her thighs, tilting dangerously every few seconds whenever the plane shifts slightly, and from the way she has not even noticed, she must be sleeping deeply.I watch her quietly for a moment longer than I probably should.The warm cabin l
BETTYThe private airport is quieter than I expected.No crowded terminals. No screaming children dragging suitcases behind exhausted parents. No long lines or rushed announcements echoing through giant halls.Just polished floors, expensive cars parked beneath dim golden lights, and a silence so clean it almost makes everything happening feel unreal.My taxi rolls to a slow stop near the entrance, and for a moment, I simply sit there with both hands wrapped tightly around my bag while the engine hums.My chest feels tight. A memory from the last time I stood inside an airport comes rushing in. Rhys, beside me excited about our trip to Mexico.This was before Nathaniel texted me that Grace had been hurt. And everything after that became chaos.And now here I am again. Back at the airport, except this time, Rhys isn’t here. Because he is missing.The realization settles heavily inside my chest as I stare through the back window toward the private jet waiting several feet away.Its slee
NATHANIELI can already tell the thoughts that are sitting inside her head right now.Who is she? Why didn’t he mention her? Why does he look comfortable sitting there? Is she the reason he has disappeared?She doesn’t scroll any further. She simply lowers the phone slowly before tossing it onto the armchair behind me like suddenly touching it has become unbearable.And without a single word, she turns around and walks back to the couch she was sitting on earlier and grabs her phone.Then, she begins walking towards the door, and without thinking, my hand grabs her wrist just as she is about to pass me, and I pull her gently but firmly enough to stop her.“Betty, wait…”She spins halfway toward me, startled by the contact, and yanks her hand away like I am contagious, making her stumble backward slightly.“That photo doesn’t mean anything.”The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and the second they do, confusion hits me hard because what the fuck?Am I seriously standing her
NATHANIELMy phone vibrates against my palm, and the sound cuts through the quiet living room instantly.It’s a text from my FBI contact. “Found something on Rhys. I need you to wire the payment first.”A dry scoff escapes me. Of course, he wants the money up front. But honestly, I cannot even blame him.These days, everyone moves like they are one bad decision away from betrayal. Trust has become something people sell in pieces, and after everything that happened with Amanda, I am not exactly in a position to judge.The memory tries to surface, but I shove it away immediately before it poisons this moment, too.I navigate toward my banking app and quickly transfer the agreed-upon fifteen thousand dollars without hesitation.The second the confirmation clears, another notification pops up.A folder with photos. And alongside it, a short message. “Here is everything I could pull from the last twenty-four hours on short notice.”My chest tightens. Because across the room, Betty still ha
BETTYI am pretty sure this is the longest Nathaniel and I have ever been in the same room without yelling at each other, throwing accusations back and forth, or looking at one another like we would rather be anywhere else on earth.And that’s why this has been nothing but uncomfortable.The living room is quiet except for the occasional tick of the giant clock mounted near the hallway and the soft crackling of the fireplace across the room.I am seated near the window, curled into the edge of the couch, while Nathaniel occupies the armchair closest to the door, as if both of us unconsciously chose positions that would make escape easier if this became too much.Harriette left almost an hour ago, claiming she needed her beauty rest before she “aged ten years from stress,” before pointing her cane at both of us dramatically and ordering us to wake her up the second we heard anything about Rhys.I cross one leg over the other before uncrossing it again moments later, my heel tapping ligh
BETTYI couldn’t bring myself to enter the house once I got home.I sank onto the steps leading to the main door, and I’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours, staring at the empty driveway, waiting.Grace and Nathaniel still haven’t shown up, and it’s almost five o’clock.I glance at the w
BETTYThe driver slows to a stop in front of Grace’s school, and I take a deep breath before stepping out of the car.The afternoon sun is soft, and the air hums with laughter as children spill out from their buses, dragging small suitcases and waving to their parents.I scan the crowd, my eyes dar
NATHANIELI’m still on a high as I drop Amanda off and head back home with Grace in the backseat.The ice-cream date went better than I could’ve hoped and I cannot get over how much Grace bonded with her.Amanda, of course, was perfect—charming, patient, and knew exactly how to make a six-year-old a
NATHANIELThe air in the gazebo is thick with tension and the scent of roses.Harriette sits at the head of the round table, her back impossibly straight, the evening sunlight reflecting the silver in her hair.A maid comes and sets down a tray of tea and cookies before slipping away in silence, le







