Chapter 5
The silence on the line stretched out, suffocating and profound. Ethan stood beside the cracked plaster, his left fist still resting against the damaged wall, though the violent pressure he was applying began to slowly ease. The absolute lack of a response from Michael was unnatural.
"Michael?" Ethan barked, his voice lacking its previous volume, a sudden edge of uncertainty bleeding into his tone. "Did you hear me? I gave you a direct order."
"I heard you, sir," Michael’s phone voice finally returned. It was incredibly hesitant, laced with a heavy, sorrowful empathy that Ethan had never heard from the man before.
Suddenly, Ethan’s expression changed. The furious, untouchable mafia boss vanished, replaced by a man sensing an impending, catastrophic impact.
"Then why aren't you hanging up and dispatching the teams?" Ethan demanded, though the fire in his voice was rapidly dying.
"Because she isn't coming home, Mr. Blackwood," Michael said quietly, taking a deep, shaky breath over the receiver. "Sir... her father died three days ago."
Ethan froze.
The words hit him with the devastating force of a physical blow to the chest. Her father died. The gentle, kind old man who had reluctantly given Claire’s hand in marriage to a criminal, the man Claire loved more than anything in the world.
His left fist slowly loosened against the damaged wall. His knuckles were bruised, coated in white plaster dust, but his hand fell limp to his side. The expensive black fitted shirt felt incredibly tight, restricting the air in his lungs.
He lowered his head slightly, his thick wavy hair falling forward. He stared blankly at the polished marble floor, his mind struggling violently to process the news. Three days ago. Thursday. The exact day he had left the city with Vanessa. The exact day Claire had desperately called his phone seventy-four times.
"No," Ethan whispered, the word escaping his lips without his permission.
"It was a massive heart attack, sir," Michael continued, his voice steady but incredibly gentle. "It happened at his home on Thursday morning. The hospital tried to reach you. Claire tried to reach you. I didn't even know because I was managing the port negotiations. She had no one."
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The sheer horror of his actions crashed down upon him. While he was pouring expensive champagne in a mountain chalet, the woman he had vowed to protect was watching her father die.
"I..." Ethan started, his voice completely unsteady, stripped of all its commanding baritone. He looked up, his sharp masculine features looking hollow and haunted. "WHAT? WHERE IS MY WIFE?"
