I closed the warehouse door behind me and stood there for a moment, my hand still resting on the handle.
The man’s words kept replaying in my head.
Bosses can be replaced. Founders can’t.
There was something about the way he’d said it that bothered me. He hadn’t sounded like he was trying to intimidate me. If anything, it had sounded like a warning he hadn’t meant to give.
I didn’t know what it meant yet.
But I would.
I pushed away from the door and walked down the hallway.
The interrogation had given me more than the man probably realized. Not names or locations, but reactions. Those were often more useful. He’d reacted when I mentioned my father. He’d reacted when I suggested someone close to him had provided the information. And every time I’d gotten too close to something he genuinely feared, he’d fallen back on the same words.
I can’t.
Not I won’t.
There was a difference.
People who refused to talk usually believed they had something worth protecting.
People who couldn’t talk were usually protecting themselves.
I reached the entrance, where one of my men was waiting.
"Boss."
"Get me everything you can on him."
He straightened. "Everything?"
"Everything. Name, history, known associates, businesses, addresses, previous employers. I want to know where he came from before tonight."
"Understood."
I took a few steps before stopping.
"And don’t limit it to him."
He looked at me.
"I want information on everyone who’s been around my father for the last several years."
His expression changed slightly.
"Everyone?"
"Everyone."
I turned fully toward him.
"Start with the people closest to him. His drivers, assistants, security, business partners. Anyone who’s had regular access to him. Anyone who could walk into his office without needing permission. Anyone who knows his schedule."
He nodded slowly.
"Are we looking for someone specific?"
"No."
I held his gaze.
"That’s the problem."
He seemed to understand.
"Yes, boss."
I continued toward the exit.
I wasn’t looking for a name yet. I didn’t have enough information for that.
I needed a pattern first.
Something had been happening around my family long before I noticed it, and my father clearly knew more than he was willing to tell me.
The question was how much.
And who else knew.
I stepped outside.
The night air was cooler against my skin. I stood beside my car for a moment, looking back at the warehouse.
The captive was still inside.
For once, I wasn’t interested in going back in there and squeezing another answer out of him.
If he was afraid, pressure would only make him hold tighter.
Besides, he’d already given me enough to start pulling at the thread.
I got into my car and started the engine.
The drive back to the estate was quiet.
My mind wandered between the captive, my father, the people around him, and everything that had happened over the last few days.
I didn’t like how many things seemed connected.
And I liked even less that I couldn’t yet see how.
By the time I reached the estate, the night had settled over the grounds.
The gates opened as soon as my car approached.
I drove through and parked in front of the house.
The moment I stepped out, the guards near the entrance straightened.
"Boss."
"Come see me later."
One of them looked confused.
"Sir?"
"All of you."
I started toward the house.
Then I stopped.
I looked back at them.
There was something I’d almost forgotten.
Almost.
"I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten how your negligence almost caused Rose her life."
The reaction was immediate.
Nobody answered.
One of the guards swallowed.
Another looked down.
Someone shifted his weight from one foot to the other, while another wiped his palm against his uniform.
I noticed the sweat gathering along one man’s forehead.
Good.
At least they remembered.
I didn’t need to raise my voice.
They knew exactly what I meant.
"Later," I said.
"Yes, boss."
I turned and walked inside.
The door closed behind me.
And immediately, I noticed the silence.
I stopped in the foyer.
Something was wrong.
Not obviously wrong.
There were no broken things. No signs of a struggle. Nothing that would make anyone else stop and look around.
It was simply too quiet.
The estate was never completely silent.
There was always something.
A door opening somewhere.
The sound of footsteps.
Staff moving around.
A television playing in one of the rooms.
Someone talking.
Sometimes Rose’s voice.
I looked toward the sitting room.
Empty.
I checked the dining area.
Empty.
The hallway was empty too.
My father wasn’t here.
That wasn’t unusual.
His work kept him away more often than not, and I hadn’t expected him to be home.
But Rose should have been here.
And her mother.
Usually, I would find them together somewhere.
I didn’t always pay attention to their conversations. Most of the time, I walked past them without giving it a second thought.
But I knew the sound of them.
I knew Rose’s laugh.
I knew her mother’s voice when she was complaining about something.
I knew the way their conversations sometimes carried through the house.
There was always life here when they were around.
Tonight, there was nothing.
I started walking.
Maybe they were somewhere I hadn’t checked.
Maybe they’d gone outside.
Maybe—
I turned a corner and almost walked straight into someone.
"Oh!"
She stepped back quickly.
"I’m sorry."
"It’s fine."
I looked at her properly.
Rose’s mother.
She looked tired.
I mean genuinely tired.
Not the kind of tiredness that came from having a long day and needing sleep.
There was something worn out about her expression.
Her eyes looked puffy, and the smile she gave me seemed forced.
"Oh."
She looked at me.
"You’re back."
I nodded.
"Hm."
She studied me for a second.
"You’ve been so scarce these days."
"Work."
"Of course."
She tried to smile again.
This time, it barely lasted.
My gaze moved past her and down the hallway.
Still empty.
She followed my eyes.
"Oh. Your father isn’t around."
"I know."
I glanced toward the staircase.
Nothing.
I couldn’t explain why the quiet was beginning to bother me.
Maybe I’d simply become too accustomed to hearing Rose around the house.
Maybe I’d expected to see her without realizing it.
I almost asked.
Where’s Rose?
The question reached my throat.
I stopped it.
I didn’t know why.
Maybe I didn’t want her mother to know I’d been looking for Rose the moment I walked through the door.
Maybe I didn’t want to admit to myself that I’d noticed her absence before I’d noticed anything else.
So instead, I asked, "Where are all the staff?"
She looked at me.
"The staff?"
"Yes."
I gestured vaguely around us.
"I haven’t seen anyone."
She gave me a tired smile.
"They weren’t needed."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"They weren’t needed."
Her voice was soft.
Almost dismissive.
But it didn’t sound casual.
"Why weren’t they needed?"
She looked away.
"I sent them away."
"For what reason?"
"There wasn’t really anything for them to do."
I watched her.
Something about the answer didn’t sit right with me.
She looked like she wanted to end the conversation.
She shifted as if she were about to walk away.
And suddenly, I couldn’t hold the question back anymore.
"Where is Rose?"
She stopped.
Slowly, she turned around.
The expression on her face changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Her eyes softened, and something in her shoulders seemed to drop.
She breathed out.
"She’s upstairs."
I waited.
"In her room."
My brows furrowed.
"Why?"
She looked down.
For a moment, she didn’t answer.
Then she said quietly, "She hasn’t been out for three days."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"Three days."
I felt something tighten in my chest.
"Why?"
"I don’t know."
Her voice shook slightly.
"I’ve asked her."
She looked toward the staircase.
"I’ve knocked on her door so many times."
"And?"
"Nothing."
I frowned.
"Nothing?"
She shook her head.
"She won’t answer me."
"Not once?"
"Not once."
She wiped beneath one eye.
I noticed then that she was trying not to cry.
"If her room was on the ground floor," she said quietly, "I’d probably think she wasn’t even in there."
I said nothing.
"I’d knock and talk to an empty room and eventually convince myself she’d left through the window."
She gave a small, tired laugh that didn’t sound like laughter at all.
"But her room is upstairs."
She swallowed.
"I know she’s still there."
"How?"
"I’ve checked."
Her voice became quieter.
"She’s there."
I stared toward the stairs again.
"She hasn’t come out at all?"
"No."
"Has she spoken to you?"
"No."
"Has she asked for anything?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
My stomach tightened.
"And she’s been in there for three days?"
"Yes."
I looked back at her.
"Has she eaten?"
She didn’t answer.
My chest tightened further.
"Has she eaten?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"No."
I stared at her.
"For how long?"
She swallowed.
"Three days."
For a moment, I just looked at her.
Three days.
The words didn’t feel real.
"She’s hasn’t eaten in three days?"
She shook her head.
"And you just waltz around the house like everything is fine?"
My voice rose before I could stop it.
She flinched.
"I didn’t say everything was fine."
"Does father know."
She avoided my eyes before answering
"Well... I ."
I stopped.
"Nevermind that. Did you call me?"
"I did"
"What?"
"I called you."
She wiped her cheeks.
"Several times."
I frowned.
"You didn’t answer."
I didn’t remember.
But it didn’t matter.
Not now.
"Why didn’t you call someone else?"
"I didn’t know what to do."
Her voice cracked.
"I thought she needed time."
"Three days?"
"I know!"
She looked at me through tear-filled eyes.
"I know, Reagan."
She took a shaky breath.
"I thought she’d eventually come out. I kept thinking if I gave her enough space, she’d open the door."
"And she didn’t?"
"No."
She shook her head.
"Every time I knocked, I hoped she’d answer. Sometimes I’d stand there for several minutes just waiting.", She said her voice trembling.
My mind was already somewhere else.
Upstairs.
Behind a closed door.
Rose.
Three days.
Three days without eating.
Three days without speaking.
And I hadn’t known.
I thought about the last few days.
Everything I’d been dealing with.
The warehouse.
The investigation.
My father.
The threats.
I’d been so focused on everything happening outside the estate that I hadn’t stopped to look at what was happening inside it.
And Rose had been up there the entire time.
My heart started pounding.
I turned toward the stairs.
"Reagan—"
I didn’t wait.
I started climbing.
Quickly.
Then faster.
By the time I reached the top, I was taking the stairs two at a time.
My thoughts were moving too fast.
Three days.
I couldn’t get the number out of my head.
I reached the hallway and moved toward her room.
Her door came into view.
I stopped in front of it.
For a second, I just stared.
It looked exactly like it always did.
Nothing about it suggested anything was wrong.
That almost made it worse.
I raised my hand and knocked.
"Rose?"
Nothing.
I waited.
"Rose."
Silence.
I knocked again.
Harder.
"Rose, open the door."
Nothing.
I put my palm against the wood.
"Rose?"
Still nothing.
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
I stepped back.
Then slammed my fist against the door.
"Rose!"
Nothing.
I hit it again.
Harder.
"Rose!"
My breathing was getting heavier.
I could feel my heartbeat in my chest.
"Rose, can you hear me?"
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