Chapter 164

Chapter 164
Claudia's POV

Rhett wasn't listening anymore. He'd latched onto something I'd said. "The last time you saw her was when she was ill?"

I didn't answer, worrying about Sheryl's state. If she hadn't been here... where had she been?

Seeing his defeated expression, I softened slightly. For all his faults, I knew he loved Sheryl.

I glanced at my phone again. "Go home. I'll keep trying to reach her. Tomorrow I'll ask my dad to help look for her. I'll let you know if I hear anything."

Rhett stared at my phone. "Try once more."

I sighed but complied, scrolling through my call history filled with attempts to reach the same number. I pressed dial.

Then—a ring. Not the immediate voicemail we'd been getting.

Rhett and I froze, our eyes locking in disbelief. The room fell silent except for the ringing tone.

"Claudia?" Sheryl's voice came through, calm and gentle.

I burst into tears, putting the phone on speaker. I caught Rhett staring at the phone with such intensity, like a drowning man spotting shore.

"Sheryl, where are you?" I demanded. "Where did you go?"

"I'm traveling for work," she replied lightly.

"You're lying!" I cried. "I know everything now. Sheryl, please, where are you?"

After a long silence, she finally spoke. "Claudia, I'm fine. I just couldn't stay in Boston anymore." Her voice caught slightly. "That place... it's toxic. The people too."

"If Rhett contacts you, tell him to sign the divorce papers. From now on, we go our separate ways. We're even."

Rhett took the phone from my hand, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Sheryl, where are you?" His voice was deep, raw with emotion.

Silence greeted him.

"Tell me where you are," he continued, desperation bleeding into his tone. "I'll come get you."

"Claudia," Sheryl finally responded, deliberately ignoring him, "I need to go."

"Sheryl!" Rhett's knuckles turned white from gripping the phone. "What do you think you're doing, leaving those things behind and disappearing? You think a signature makes us divorced? Tell me where you are. We need to talk."

When she remained silent, he softened his approach. "Sheryl, many things aren't what you think. The shares, what happened a year ago—"

"Just sign the divorce papers," she cut him off, her voice weary. "Stop chasing me."

The line went dead. When he tried calling back, it went straight to voicemail.

Rhett stood there, looking more lost than I'd ever seen him. I offered one last piece of advice: "If you truly don't want to lose her, think hard about what you did to hurt her so badly."

Jack's POV

When Mark and I entered Oakridge Estate the next morning, I barely recognized the place. The pristine living room that normally reflected Mr. Hayes' obsessive attention to order was a disaster. Empty bottles littered the coffee table, cigarette butts and ash covered every surface, and the stench of alcohol hung in the air.

The boss was sprawled on the sofa, eyes closed. I couldn't tell if he'd fallen asleep sitting up or if he hadn't slept at all.

Mr. Hayes rarely showed this level of defeat. The last time I'd seen him like this was six years ago when his father died.

Mark and I exchanged uncertain glances, debating whether to disturb him.

"Report." His voice, though quiet, made us both snap to attention.

So he hadn't slept.

"Sir," I began carefully, "Mr. Nicholas Hayes called. He's requested your presence at the family estate."

He opened his eyes, a bitter smile playing on his lips as he looked at us, waiting for more.

We understood what he wanted to know.

"No news of Mrs. Hayes yet, sir," Mark said, lowering his head. "We're tracing the London flights, but it's taking time since we don't have many contacts abroad."

Mr. Hayes stood, buttoning his wrinkled shirt. "She studied in France. She might have gone there. Have our people check."

"Yes, sir," we replied in unison.

Rhett's POV

The oppressive aura of fury I carried must have been visible as I entered my grandfather's study. Nicholas looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing as he assessed me.

"So, Sheryl has fled?" he asked bluntly.

I turned to him sharply. How did he know?

He shook his head, a resigned smile crossing his weathered face. Clearly, my reaction had confirmed his guess.

"When your grandmother and I were dating," he said, leaning back in his chair, "she had this habit of running away whenever she got angry with me. She'd always go to her parents' house, and I'd bring her back the same day."

His eyes grew distant with memory. "Later, after her parents passed away, we had a tremendous fight. She left again, and I searched everywhere but couldn't find her."

I found myself listening intently, waiting for him to continue.

Nicholas smiled, meeting my gaze directly. "Do you know where she went?"

I remained silent, genuinely curious now.

"She went to Russia," he said softly, "where I had attended university."