Chapter 79 Caroline Has Been Missing for Six Hours
The assistant hesitated, a faint crease between her brows. "But... Mr. Hamilton might not like it."
"Whether he likes it or not doesn't matter," Harry drawled, leaning back into the sofa with deliberate ease. "What matters is that he remembers the debt."
He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, eyes narrowing. "As for Dr. Cortes... the way he looks at that woman isn't just nostalgia. No, there's more to it. If Alexander ever learns that saving his wife today came from another man dropping to his knees and begging for her release... well, that spectacle would be far more entertaining than me buying her outright for my own amusement."
Harry paused, gaze sliding back to his assistant, a glint of meaning in his eyes.
"Love and hate... sometimes they're separated by the thinnest of lines. Messy, tangled, impossible to read. For people like us, the best place is in the audience."
The assistant nodded slowly, unsure if she truly understood, but unwilling to press further.
Harry's attention returned to the stage, where a new "exhibit" had taken the spotlight. The lights glinted in his eyes, a flicker of anticipation buried deep.
This little detour had already outshone any auction he had attended tonight.
He murmured under his breath, "Alexander... you'd better hold on to this favor. As for the storm it'll unleash... I can't wait."
Late at night, Ravenwood Manor's study was lit brightly.
Alexander sat behind the vast desk, the open file before him unread. A cigar burned to a long column of ash between his fingers, forgotten.
A knock broke the silence.
"Come in."
Liam stepped inside. "Sir, we have a lead."
Alexander's spine went rigid, masking his tension with a lazy composure. He lifted the cigar, not realizing it had already gone cold.
"Where?" His voice was low, clipped. "Which airport? Which port?"
Liam moved closer, lowering his voice. "Sir... Mrs. Hamilton doesn't appear to have orchestrated this escape herself."
The cigar twisted slightly in Alexander's grip. "Explain."
"We expanded the search radius. Surveillance at intersections three miles east and west of Ravenwood Manor picked up the same dark van. The timing matches her disappearance. Based on the route, it likely used the service road behind the manor—the one reserved for supply deliveries."
Liam's tone tightened. "We traced the plates. The van's registered to a petty criminal with multiple priors. He runs errands for a nightclub... the kind of man known for trafficking."
Ash crumbled between Alexander's fingers, scattering across the desk. A cold dread settled in his gut.
"Which club?" His voice betrayed a faint tremor.
"Eclipse Club," Liam said grimly.
Alexander shot to his feet.
Eclipse Club—Grandhaven's most notorious den in the underground district. Officially a luxury nightclub, in truth a cesspool of human auctions, trafficking, organ deals. Those who entered rarely came out alive.
"Sir, Mrs. Hamilton has been missing for six hours," Liam pressed.
Alexander's throat worked. Six hours in that place meant... nothing good. Images he didn't want clawed into his mind—each ending with Caroline broken beyond recognition, or worse.
His fist slammed into the desk, wood groaning under the impact.
"Lock down Eclipse Club and every street around it. Nothing gets in or out—not even air. Arm everyone. We leave in three minutes."
He didn't wait for acknowledgment, striding out toward the weapons room. The robe came off in one violent motion. The bulletproof vest went on. He checked the pistol's magazine, then turned sharply.
"Alex!" Celeste's voice rang out as she rushed from the guest room, intercepting him at the stairs.
"Is there news about Caroline? Did you find her?"
He gave a noncommittal grunt, moving to pass her.
Celeste's stomach knotted. His gear, his urgency—he was going to rescue her.
She grabbed his arm. "Alex! Where are you going? It's too dangerous to go charging in with so many men! Let your people handle it—I'm worried about you—"
"Let go." He didn't even glance at her. His arm jerked free. "Stay here. Or go back to your apartment. Don't get in my way."
He was gone before she could speak again, vanishing down the stairs into a phalanx of black-suited guards. Seconds later, headlights tore away into the night.
Celeste stood frozen, her expression hardening.
They had found Caroline's trail already. Had those idiots finished the job? Had they followed her instructions to wipe that woman from existence?
Her nails dug into her palms. No. She couldn't panic. Six hours in a place like that was enough to ruin anyone. Alexander might find her... but only a shell, or a corpse. That would suit her perfectly.
But if the worst happened—
She needed to erase every trace that could lead back to her.
Celeste spun on her heel, hurrying downstairs.
Inside the nightclub, the atmosphere had reached a fever pitch.
On stage, a new "exhibit" endured the high-priced "interactions" bought by the guests. The crack of a whip split the air, mingling with muffled cries and the roar of drunken excitement. The stench of blood and alcohol hung thick.
Then—commotion at the entrance. A deafening metallic crash as the heavy soundproof door was smashed inward.
The music died instantly. Heads turned. A tide of black suits surged in, locking down every exit, guns sweeping the crowd.
"Nobody move! Down on the floor!"
Panic rippled through the room. Guests dropped, hands over their heads. Hostesses and servers cowered together, trembling.
Through the chaos, Alexander entered, flanked by guards, his face carved in stone.
Harry's pupils narrowed, but he didn't move. He set his glass down, lips curling in amusement. Alexander had made good time.
Alexander's gaze cut across the room like a blade... and stopped at the center stage.