Chapter 4
The cracked plaster dust settled onto the polished marble floor. Ethan kept his fist pressed hard against the wall, leaning his weight into it. His expensive silver wristwatch pressed uncomfortably against his skin, but he didn't care. His thick, wavy dark-brown hair was slightly disheveled, and his piercing eyes were narrowed into a terrifying glare. He was practically vibrating with a volatile, destructive fury.
"Sir, you need to stop issuing orders and listen to me," Michael said, his voice dropping to a very quiet, very serious tone. "You cannot bring her back by force. You cannot fix this with a team of men."
"Watch me," Ethan challenged, his voice dripping with venom. "I own half the judges in this state and the entire police force. There is nowhere she can go that I cannot reach her."
"You couldn't reach her when she needed you," Michael countered bravely, the unspoken judgment loud and clear.
Ethan’s eyes widened slightly, the sheer audacity of his assistant's remark catching him off guard. "Excuse me? Watch your tone, Michael. You are crossing a line you cannot walk back from."
"I am trying to save you from crossing one, Mr. Blackwood," Michael insisted, the professional veneer cracking just enough to reveal genuine desperation. "I am looking at the security logs from the estate. I am looking at the phone records. She called you. She called you seventy-four times over the last four days."
Ethan’s breath hitched. Seventy-four times. He had left his primary phone in his desk drawer here at the mansion before leaving with Vanessa, deliberately cutting himself off from the world to avoid any distractions.
"I was in meetings," Ethan lied instinctively, a pathetic, reflex defense. "I was out of the country."
"We both know that is a lie, sir," Michael said softly. "But it doesn't matter where you were. What matters is that she was completely alone here."
The image of Claire, his gentle, loyal wife, frantically calling a phone sitting in a dark desk drawer suddenly flashed through his mind. A sickening feeling began to twist in the pit of his stomach. His anger was a shield, and Michael was actively dismantling it.
Ethan gripped the black smartphone so tightly the plastic casing creaked. He pulled his head back from the wall, his sharp, masculine features contorted in a mix of rage and rising terror. He needed to reassert control. He needed to scream over the impending bad news.
"FIND CLAIRE!" Ethan bellowed furiously through the phone, the volume of his voice shaking the crystal pieces of the chandelier above. "TELL HER TO COME HOME!"
May you like
He stood there, breathing heavily, listening impatiently to the static on the other end of the line, waiting for his assistant to finally submit and follow his absolute command.
But instead of compliance, a heavy, devastating silence fell over the receiver.
