The moment Ivy Harrington stepped into the gala hall, she sensed something was off.The shift was subtle at first—just a slight stiffening in the air—but as she walked farther inward, the unease sharpened. Normally, her entrance commanded every glance. Yet tonight, the stares weren’t on her.They were on Donald.Dozens of eyes—fearful, confused, cautious—were pinned to him as though he were a storm building silently at the center of the room. People whispered behind raised glasses and a few guests stepped aside when Ivy passed.She paused halfway across the gleaming marble floor.What on earth had happened?Her heels clicked softly as she finished closing the distance to Donald. He stood in a relaxed posture near one of the hall's central pillars, hands tucked loosely in his pockets, entirely indifferent to the uneasy attention suffocating the room.Ivy’s gaze swept the hall. Some guests kept glancing anxiously toward the entrance, as if expecting more chaos. Others hovered in ten

Jane froze.The voice wasn’t familiar.She slowly turned.A man was walking toward her—mid-thirties, tall, wearing a dark jacket and a cautious expression. His steps were firm but not threatening. His brows pulled together as though he carried worry.“You’re Jane Morris, right?”Jane nodded slowly. “Yes… I am.”He sighed in relief, as though confirming something important. “Good. I was told you’d be arriving this morning.”That startled her.“Told by who?” she asked.He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced left and right, scanning the surroundings with a tension that made Jane’s stomach tighten.When his eyes returned to hers, he lowered his voice.“Miss Wilson, I need to speak with you privately. There’s an urgent matter you need to know.”Jane blinked, confused. “Urgent? About what?”He hesitated—but only for a second.“About your new partnership with DeGrand Corporation.”Her heart dropped.“What about it?” she whispered.Again, he looked around the compound, as though ch

Jane swallowed hard. “W–what deal? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Thomas’s smile was slow, deliberate—one of those smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. “The deal, Jane,” he said softly. “The one where your cooperation determines whether you walk out of here unharmed.” Her breath caught in her throat. She tried to keep her voice steady, but her chest tightened painfully. There was no misunderstanding his tone. This wasn’t a threat disguised in polite words; it was the threat. He stepped closer. “You’re a partner of DeGrand Corporation now. I’ve confirmed it myself.” His lips curved. “Impressive title, I’ll admit.” Jane’s mind raced. “What does that have to do with anything?” she asked, forcing the words out. She needed to understand, even if every instinct told her she wouldn’t like the answer. Thomas straightened, his posture suddenly sharp and formal, as though he were at a boardroom table instead of standing in front of a woman he had trapped. He clasped his h

Jane’s hands were trembling as she held her phone. Her pulse raced so fast it felt like it could burst through her chest. She had barely started to explain her situation to Jaxon when the door burst open. The room seemed to shrink as Thomas stormed in, his eyes dark with fury. Jane froze, her voice caught in her throat. “I—I,” she stammered, trying to explain, but before she could finish, Thomas’s shadow loomed over her. Without a word, he slammed his hand down on her phone. It shattered instantly, the screen cracking and sparks of glass scattering across the floor. Jane gasped in terror, reaching out instinctively, but it was gone—her only lifeline severed in an instant. “Put that thing down,” Thomas growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want to hear it ring ever again.” Jane’s eyes filled with tears as she backed away. “Please! You don’t have to do this! I’ll—I'll cooperate!” Thomas’s lips curved into a cold, mocking smile. “Cooperate?” he said, his tone dripp

Donald’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. He glanced at the distressed woman beside him—Mrs. Wilson—and then back at Michael. His tone was icy, controlled, and detached. “Don’t make baseless accusations,” Donald said coldly. “I had nothing to do with her disappearance. You should focus on what’s important instead of pointing fingers at me.” Michael’s face flushed with anger. “Nothing to do with it? She’s missing, Donald! We’ve searched everywhere! The police have been informed! If you don’t produce Jane, count yourself finished!” Donald didn’t respond further. Without another word, he walked back to his car, opened the door, and got in. He started the engine and drove off slowly, leaving the Wilsons standing on the roadside, their anger and fear colliding. Michael’s fists clenched tightly as he shouted after him, but Donald ignored him, his expression hard and unreadable. For several minutes, Donald drove in silence. The traffic blurred around him, but his thoughts were focus