تسجيل الدخول4:20 p.m. The interviews began almost immediately. Steve Carter and Dan Reeves worked through the people who had been closest to Emma that afternoon. Maya went in first. Stephanie followed. Adrian came after her. While Stephanie was inside, Adrian sat beside Maya in the hallway, one arm around her shoulders. Maya hadn’t stopped worrying since she got the news. Adrian said nothing. There wasn’t much he could say. A few feet away, Alexander Whitmore sat alone. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands loosely clasped. He hadn’t moved much since arriving. His mind kept returning to the same question. How had everything changed so quickly? Just a few hours ago, Emma had been going about her day as usual. She had been planning lunch. She had chosen the restaurant. She had shared the location. And now no one knew where she was. Alexander looked toward the interview room when the door opened. Steve stepped out. “Mr. Whitmore?” Alexander stood i
The elevator doors opened. Stephanie stepped out first. Adrian followed. Neither of them had to ask whether something was wrong. They could feel it. The usual rhythm of Blackwood Industries had disappeared. People stood in small groups instead of sitting at their desks. Conversations stopped whenever someone from the executive floor walked past. Phones were in everyone’s hands, but very few people were actually working. Then Adrian saw Maya. She was sitting near reception, her phone clutched tightly between both hands. Her eyes were red. Adrian stopped. He had known Maya for months. He had seen her angry, sarcastic, irritated, amused. He had never seen her cry. “Maya.” She looked up. The moment she saw him, whatever control she had left seemed to disappear. Adrian crossed the distance between them and pulled her into a hug. Maya held onto him. “What happened?” he asked quietly. She tried to answer. Nothing came out. Stephanie stepped closer. “Any information?”
3:20 p.m. The door opened. “Sir, I need to—” Maya stopped. The rest of the sentence disappeared. She looked around Rowan’s office. Something was wrong. Rowan stood behind his desk, his expression hard and unreadable. Brian was beside him, a case file open in his hands. Alexander stood near the monitor, his attention fixed on the security footage. No one spoke. Maya’s eyes moved from one face to another. “What happened?” Rowan looked at her. “Maya…” There was something in his voice that made her stomach tighten. “What?” Rowan held her gaze. “Emma is missing.” Maya stared at him. “What?” “She left Blackwood earlier,” Brian said. “We haven’t been able to locate her since.” Maya shook her head. “But I saw her leave.” Alexander turned immediately. “You saw Emma leave?” “Yes.” “When?” “Just before one.” “Did you speak to her?” “Yes.” Maya reached for her phone. “And I texted her afterwards.” Alexander stepped closer. “When?” Maya
3:00 p.m. Alexander Whitmore walked into Blackwood Industries with his sleeves rolled to his forearms and his jacket still in the car. He had come straight from lunch. He hadn’t gone back to the office. Hadn’t changed. Hadn’t stopped to think about what he was doing. He had simply left the moment he realized Emma hadn’t arrived where she was supposed to be. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what. That was the part he couldn’t shake. Emma Laurent didn’t disappear. She didn’t leave without telling someone. And she never ignored his calls. The receptionist directed him upstairs. Alexander thanked her and headed for Rowan Blackwood’s office. The door was open. He stopped when he saw Rowan inside. Another man stood near the desk. Alexander didn’t recognize him. Rowan’s expression changed the moment he saw Alexander. “Alexander.” Alexander barely paused. “Any news?” Rowan shook his head. “Nothing yet.” He gestured toward the man beside him.
Emma returned to her office at Blackwood after finishing the paperwork Jennifer had asked her to complete. She placed the signed documents on her desk and glanced at the clock. 12:20 p.m. She was running a little later than she had planned. Emma picked up her phone and opened her conversation with Alexander. She sent him the restaurant’s location. Emma: Mr. Whitmore, this is the restaurant. I’ll be there by one. His reply came almost immediately. Alexander: Okay, perfect. Emma: See you there. She slipped her phone into her bag, picked up the folders she had been carrying, and stepped out of her office. She had barely reached the end of the corridor when Maya called after her. “Emma.” Emma turned. “Where are you going without even meeting me?” Emma stopped. “I didn’t know where you were.” “I was in my office.” “So was I.” “Exactly. You could’ve come looking.” Emma laughed. “What’s the hurry?” “I have lunch with Mr. Whitmore’s team. He’s throw
The next morning, Emma was almost ready to leave when Stephanie called after her. “Emma.” She turned. “What?” Stephanie glanced toward the driveway. Rowan was already outside, waiting beside the car. “Come here for a second.” Emma frowned. “Why?” “Kitchen.” “Stephanie, he’s waiting.” “He can wait.” Emma sighed and followed her. The moment they were inside, Stephanie lowered her voice. “Did you and Rowan have a fight last night?” Emma blinked. “What?” “I heard him.” Emma’s expression softened. “He wasn’t shouting.” “I know.” Stephanie hesitated. “That’s why I noticed.” Emma leaned against the counter. “He was upset.” “About Mr. Whitmore?” Emma nodded. “He dropped me home.” “And Rowan didn’t like it.” “No.” Stephanie studied her face. “Did he say anything?” “Nothing terrible.” “Emma.” “We talked. That’s all.” Stephanie nodded slowly. “And he stayed?” Emma smiled faintly. “Yes.” “All night?” “Yes.” Some o
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear. Emma hated it. She went alone. She doesn’t have the energy to deal with him. The white walls. The hushed footsteps. The way nurses spoke softly, as if grief might be contagious. She sat on the edge of the examination bed, hands folded in her
Dominic did not sleep. He stood in his study long after Emma locked herself in the guest bedroom upstairs. The house was silent, but the silence was wrong. Too heavy. Too distant. For four years, this house had responded to her. Her perfume in the hallways. Her voice instructing st
The message arrived at 8:17 p.m. Emma almost ignored it. She was sitting alone in the living room of the Sterling mansion, the lights dim, a half-finished glass of water resting on the marble coffee table. Dominic’s had texted two hours ago ….”Board meeting running late. Don’t wait up.”
The elevator doors closed. And Emma collapsed. Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just slowly ….like something inside her had unplugged. Her back hit the mirrored wall, and she slid down until she was crouched on the polished floor, heels digging into marble, sobs tearing out of her che







