The damaged door bore the faint marks of desperate scratching, the paint clawed away in places by fingernails.
Clifford’s expression darkened with terrifying speed.
Ziven, watching him, felt a knot of dread tighten in his stomach. He hadn’t checked on her once in the past three days, afraid that seeing her state would make him soft. Besides, her own husband didn’t care, so why should he?
“Mr. Lambert, it seems someone has taken her. I’ll look into it right away.”
Clifford turned away from the closet and walked into the living room. His eyes caught a document lying on the table: a signed divorce agreement.
Without a word, almost as an unconscious reflex, he snatched the papers, ripped them to shreds, and let the pieces flutter to the floor. He scanned the room again, but apart from the shredded document, there were no other clues.
“Check the security footage.”
“Yes, sir.”
The villa had cameras outside. It wouldn’t be hard to see who had come and gone.
Less than twenty minutes later, Ziven returned with a tablet and handed it to Clifford.
“Mr. Lambert…” he began, but trailed off, swallowing the words he wanted to say. A storm was coming. He could feel it.
Clifford played the recording. The footage was clear. Someone had been there, and that someone was Nikita. The final clip showed her carrying Latisha on her back as she left.
Clifford remained unnervingly composed as he scrolled to the end of the footage, where Nikita’s car disappeared into a blind spot.
Just then, his phone rang. It was Killian.
Clifford looked at the caller ID, then shot a glance at Ziven that sent a cold sweat down his assistant’s spine.
Ziven had, of course, already sent the footage to Killian.
The phone rang for a long time before Clifford finally answered, putting it on speaker.
Clifford leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes.
“Find them,” he said, his voice a low command. “Turn this city upside down if you have to, but find them.”
Though he appeared calm, the barely suppressed rage tightening the lines of his brow was impossible to miss.
Ziven nodded and practically fled the room.
...
Meanwhile, Latisha had given up struggling. She slumped in the chair, watching the sky outside the window darken. The oppressive silence remained, broken only by the sound of her own heartbeat.
Just as she was wondering who could have possibly taken her from the villa, she heard the distinct sound of a key turning in the lock. Her eyes shot wide open, fixed on the door.
It swung open, and a figure stepped inside.

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