122
Sunlight spilled across the ivory carpet of the mansion like gold. Everything was still, still and perfect. Beth Rowe lay reclined on a cream velvet chaise in her sitting room, wrapped in a silk robe the color of champagne. Her polished and pink bare feet rested on the edge of an ottoman as she slowly sipped a glass of freshly pressed cucumber juice.
She was at peace.
A gentle classical piece played through the surround sound system, maybe Brahms, something cultured and precise, something triumphant—her triumph.
She held her phone in her hand, fingers lazily scrolling through a photo gallery. Her lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk as image after image passed across the screen:
Jordan Ellis, post-op swelling is already going down.
Jordan Ellis, in a custom-tailored suit, was mirrored exactly from Kingsley’s wardrobe.
Jordan Ellis, smiling next to her at the vow renewal, his jaw tight but passable.
He was improving. Daily.
The minor jaw reduction. Voice modulation therapy. The intensive behavioral coaching. It had all paid off. His frame was still slightly off, too soft around the shoulders, but the padded suit had corrected that well enough.
Most importantly, he looked like Kingsley.
And for everyone who mattered, the board members, the few family guests allowed at the restructured vow ceremony, that had been enough.
Even Katherine had been fooled too. Beth smiled wider at that memory.
The tears in her eyes when she saw her in the restaurant restroom. That flicker of betrayal. That disbelief. She thought Kingsley had moved on. Had married Beth again.
She had hated him for it.
Perfect.
Beth leaned back, her head resting against the plush cushion, mind drifting.
The real Kingsley was buried deep inside that facility in Staten Island. Biometrically locked. Sedated. Alone.
Beth closed her eyes, imagining the day he would wake up and smile at her. Forget Katherine. Forget everything. All his memories reset and rewritten with her in the center.
He would belong to her.
Completely.
She was still smiling when her phone rang.
She blinked slowly, like waking from a dream.
Unknown Caller.
Her lips twisted, annoyed. She almost rejected it.
But something prickled in her gut.
She answered.
“Hello?”
There was a pause. Then the voice, low and dry, like it had been dragged across gravel.
“We have a problem.”
Beth sat upright. “Who is this?”
“Your husband.”
The words hit like ice water.
“He’s gone.”
Her heart missed a beat. “I’m sorry?”
“Gone,” the voice repeated, sharper this time. “Taken from the lab sometime after 1:30 a.m. We only noticed when the loop glitched. There was a breach.”
Beth stood.
Her breath went shallow.
“No. No, that’s not possible,” she said, turning, pacing already. “The security is airtight. The perimeter—”
“They knew the weaknesses. Someone studied the shift schedules. Someone inside gave them access. It was a clean job. Professional.”
Beth’s hand flew to her mouth.
Her voice dropped. “How long have you known?”
“Just before dawn. We’ve swept the entire compound. He’s gone. They left nothing behind.”
Beth’s legs wobbled, and she lowered herself onto the edge of the chaise.
Gone.
Kingsley is gone.
It didn’t register at first. Her mind refused to accept it. Her eyes stared ahead, blank, as the voice on the other end kept talking.
“…We’re pulling external cameras now, trying to trace the vehicle. But they were smart—no plates, tinted windows. It was probably a burner vehicle.”
Beth’s mind reeled. Her throat tightened. The air around her felt suddenly too still.
She ended the call without saying goodbye.
Silence.
She stared at the screen.
Gone.
He had been right there. Just days, weeks away from forgetting everything. From loving her again. All her work.
The surgeries. The money. The planning.
Gone.
She stood abruptly, nearly tripped.
She stumbled to the wall, her palm bracing her weight as her heart raced.
Who?
Who the hell found him?
Who broke in?
It couldn’t be the lab staff. They were handpicked.
Monitored.
No one else apart from her knew where he was.
Her fingers twitched. Her mind raced, faster and faster.
But no names came.
No faces.
Who?
She hadn’t a single clue.
And that realization was the most terrifying part.
She was still frozen by the shock of the morning’s call. Her mind refused to settle, her hands slightly trembling even as she scrolled through her contacts again and again, searching for someone, anyone, she could blame or interrogate. Kingsley was gone. Vanished from the lab. And she had no clue who had done it. That fact alone was enough to make her feel like the entire city was starting to spin sideways.
And then…
A soft knock at the double doors.
Beth straightened, her breath hitching.
The maid’s voice came gently from the hallway.
“Mrs. Rowe, your father-in-law is here. Mr. Michael Rowe.”
Beth blinked. Her brain stuttered.
“What?”
The maid cleared her throat. “Mr. Rowe. He’s downstairs. I told him I’d check if you were available.”
Beth’s pulse surged.
Michael? Here?
He never came to the house. Never, unless…
Unless he knew something.
Unless he had found out.
Her body moved before her mind had a chance to catch up.
She glanced once in the mirror, adjusted the collar of her robe, and smoothed her hair. “Let him in,” she said briskly, steadying her voice. “Offer him coffee, tea… or whiskey. You know the options.”
She stepped toward the grand staircase but stopped halfway down.
Why is he here?
He was ruthless but predictable. He preferred phone calls, boardroom summits, and private clubs, not cozy drop-in visits.
Does he know?
Her eyes narrowed, her heart climbing into her throat.
Could he have been the one to find Kingsley? Could he have known all along?
But she shook it off.
Michael didn’t know. He didn’t care enough. He had always seen Kingsley as a means to an end, a vessel to carry on the Rowe legacy, the empire. And he’d made it very clear Beth was the “appropriate” wife to support that mission.
Still… this was unlike him.
And that unpredictability terrified her.
By the time she stepped into the living room, Michael Rowe was already seated. Impeccably dressed in a dark wool suit, crisp white shirt, and a vintage gold Rolex peeking beneath his sleeve. His graying hair was perfectly combed back, and his leather gloves were folded neatly beside him on the table.
He looked up with a smile, polite, distant, but unsettling in its calm.
“Elizabeth,” he said with a nod. “You’re looking well.”
Beth smiled, her lips tight. “Michael. You too. I didn’t expect you.”
“I imagine not.” He leaned back slightly, surveying the room like a CEO inspecting an unfamiliar lobby. “Nice décor. Subtle improvements since I was last here.”
Beth forced a chuckle. “Yes. I’ve made a few changes over the past few months. Warmth and elegance. Kingsley likes it that way.” Her tone was light, measured.
Michael hummed noncommittally. “I’ve been meaning to see him. He’s missed several board touchpoints. I don’t like when my company is left on autopilot.”
Beth felt her throat tighten again.
“He’s upstairs,” she offered quickly. “Resting. The past few weeks have been very… emotional, you know? The ceremony, the stress of public expectations, he needed a break.”
Michael looked at her with a level, unreadable gaze. “I want to see him.”
Beth quickly added, “Let me get him. Would you like anything to drink in the meantime?”
Michael exhaled and gave the faintest shrug. “Perhaps just water. For now.”
She nodded and backed out of the room like a soldier retreating from an ambush.
Once out of view, she didn’t breathe until she reached the landing. Her pace quickened as she made her way down the hall and slipped into the guest suite, Jordan’s room.
He was still sitting near the window, wearing joggers and a hoodie, headphones around his neck, thumbing through Kingsley’s company financial briefings like they were puzzle books. He looked up, startled, as Beth stormed in.
“He’s here,” she hissed, her voice sharp but quiet. “Michael. Kingsley’s father. He’s downstairs.”
Jordan blinked slowly.
“Wait. What? I thought you said they don’t even speak?”
“They don’t!” Beth snapped, already flinging open his closet. “He doesn’t show up here. Ever. He found out you haven’t been coming to the company, and he doesn’t use his company to joke. He wants to see you.”
Jordan stood, rubbing his neck. “Okay, but… I don’t know anything about him. You only gave me the basics. What do I say?”
Beth turned, eyes blazing.
“Listen to me carefully. You say as little as possible. I will be there the entire time. Just be cold. Dismissive. You’re annoyed he didn’t support you to be with Katherine and insisted you do the vow renewal. You don’t have time for his lectures. Don’t let him talk long. Don’t ask him anything. Just agree vaguely and then walk out. Got it?”
Jordan hesitated. “But what if he…”
“Jordan,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “This is the man who could destroy everything if he finds out. One wrong phrase, one wrong expression, and he will smell blood.”
He swallowed.
“Just like I taught you,” she said more gently. “Voice low. Chin up. Minimal eye contact. You are Kingsley Rowe. Be bored. Be superior. Let me handle him if he pushes.”
Jordan sighed and nodded slowly.
“Okay… okay.”
Beth grabbed a blazer from the closet and tossed it to him.
“Put this on. Now.”