Chapter 40 up
Vincent checked his phone for the fifth time in less than a minute.
No reply.
His jaw tightened as he stared at the dark screen, thumb hovering over Nyla’s name again. She never ignored his calls—especially not after working late. Not after promising she’d text him once she got home.
“This isn’t like her,” he muttered.
The office was nearly empty now, lights dimmed, the hum of computers replaced by an uneasy silence. Vincent stood, grabbed his coat, and tried calling again.
Straight to voicemail.
A knot formed in his chest.
“Sir?”
Vincent turned sharply. His assistant, Leo, stood near the door, holding something in his hands. His expression was pale—uneasy in a way Vincent had never seen before.
“What is it?” Vincent asked.
Leo hesitated, then stepped forward and placed the item on the desk.
It was Nyla’s phone.
The screen was cracked, the casing scratched as if it had been dragged across asphalt.
Vincent’s blood ran cold.
“Where did you find this?” His voice was dangerously calm.
“Security reported it,” Leo said quietly. “It was on Riverside Street. Near the intersection two blocks from here.”
Vincent clenched his fists. “Was she there?”
Leo shook his head. “No, sir. Just this. And her bag strap. Torn.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Vincent closed his eyes for a brief second, forcing himself to breathe. “Pull the CCTV footage from every camera in that area. Now.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Leo hurried out, Vincent stared at the broken phone like it might suddenly explain everything.
An accident?
No.
His instincts screamed otherwise.
Nyla was careful. Alert. She wouldn’t drop her phone and simply walk away. Not like this.
Someone had taken her.
Across the city, Clark jolted awake with a sharp gasp.
His chest heaved as sweat drenched his shirt. The nightmare still clung to him—Nyla’s face streaked with tears, her voice calling his name, desperate and fading.
“Clark… help me…”
He pressed a hand to his forehead, heart pounding violently.
“It was just a dream,” he whispered, though the words rang hollow.
The feeling wouldn’t leave.
Something was wrong.
Clark stumbled out of bed and grabbed his phone. Without thinking, he dialed Nyla’s number.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
His hands began to shake.
“Damn it,” he hissed, throwing the phone onto the bed.
A door creaked open behind him.
Selena stepped into the room, wrapped in a robe, her hair loose, eyes heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
Clark turned to her, his face pale. “Have you heard from Nyla?”
Selena blinked, then frowned. “Nyla? No. Why would I?”
“I can’t reach her,” Clark said, voice rising despite himself. “I feel like something happened.”
Selena walked closer, placing a hand over her chest. “Clark, you’re overthinking again. You’ve been under stress.”
“This isn’t stress,” he snapped. “This is—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I saw her. In my dream. She was crying.”
Selena’s expression softened—too practiced, too careful. “Dreams don’t mean anything. You’re projecting your guilt.”
Clark stared at her. “You’re sure you don’t know where she is?”
Selena met his gaze steadily. “I told you. I don’t.”
For a moment, Clark almost believed her.
Almost.
Back at Vincent’s office, the CCTV footage played on the large screen.
Vincent stood rigid as he watched Nyla walk alone down the street, shoulders hunched against the cold. Then shadows appeared. Men. A black car.
The footage skipped—then Nyla disappeared from the frame.
Vincent’s fists slammed into the desk.
“Freeze it there,” he commanded.
The screen paused on the moment her bag slipped from her shoulder.
“Enhance the license plate,” he said through clenched teeth.
Leo hesitated. “The angle… it’s partially obscured.”
“Then find another camera,” Vincent snapped. “I don’t care how long it takes.”
He ran a hand through his hair, fury and fear coiling together in his chest.
“This was planned,” he said darkly. “She was followed.”
Leo swallowed. “Should we call the police?”
“Yes,” Vincent replied immediately. “And my private security team. I want everyone moving.”
As Leo rushed out, Vincent stared at the screen again.
“I promised you’d be safe,” he murmured. “I won’t fail you.”
That night, Clark couldn’t sit still.
He paced the living room, every unanswered call tightening the knot in his stomach. The house felt suffocating—too quiet, too empty.
“Why won’t she answer?” he whispered.
Selena watched him from the couch, her fingers gripping the fabric of her robe. “Clark, please. Sit down.”
“No,” he said sharply. “I’m going out.”
“Out?” Selena stood abruptly. “Where?”
“To find her.”
Selena’s breath hitched for just a fraction of a second. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
Clark stopped and turned to her. “Why are you so nervous?”
“I’m not,” she said quickly. “I’m worried about you. About the baby.”
Clark stared at her, suspicion flickering in his eyes—but then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered immediately. “Hello?”
“Mr. Clark,” Vincent’s voice came through, tight and controlled. “We need to talk.”
They met less than an hour later.
Vincent didn’t waste time.
“She’s missing,” he said flatly.
Clark’s heart dropped. “What do you mean missing?”
“I mean her phone was found broken on the street. CCTV footage shows men following her.”
Clark staggered back a step. “No… no, that can’t be—”
Vincent grabbed his shoulder. “This wasn’t an accident.”
Clark’s mind raced, images crashing into each other—Nyla’s dream-voice, Selena’s too-calm answers, the fear clawing at his chest.
“Where is she?” Clark demanded hoarsely.
Vincent’s eyes burned with certainty.
“This isn’t a disappearance,” he said, voice hard as steel.
“Nyla was abducted.”