“Escaped prisoner still at large.”“Government under pressure.”“Two days left to find Ethan Carter.”Police sirens filled the streets every night. Officers searched forests, raided empty warehouses, questioned anyone connected to him.But Ethan was nowhere.Or rather… Ethan was everywhere they weren’t looking.He sat comfortably in a private lounge of a five-star hotel, legs crossed, a glass of expensive wine in his hand.A man in a suit approached carefully.“Mr. Carter… or should I say, Mr. Cole,” the man said nervously.Ethan smiled.“Names don’t matter. Money does.”The man swallowed.“You paid for the entire penthouse in cash. For three months.”Ethan leaned back.“Then you should be thanking me.”“Yes, sir. Of course.” The man hesitated. “But… the news—”Ethan’s smile faded.“You talk too much.”The man quickly raised his hands.“No, no, I didn’t mean—”Ethan cut him off.“Bring me what I asked for. Clothes. Watches. Cars.”The man nodded fast.“Immediately, sir.”When he left,

When Melissa felt the deep, warm heartbreak spread through her chest, it was almost comforting in its familiarity. Pain had become a language she understood too well.She sat quietly on the edge of her bed, hands resting limply on her lap, eyes unfocused. The room was dim, curtains drawn, the city lights outside bleeding faintly through the cracks like wounded stars. Her breathing was shallow, controlled—too controlled for someone who felt like her heart had just been torn open again.Behind her, the door creaked.“I guess you’re thinking about Ethan,” Turner’s voice came, smooth and intrusive, like a blade sliding across glass. “The man whose wealth suddenly went viral. Not even the government has been able to track him down.”Melissa’s fingers curled slowly into fists.“Father,” she said without turning, her voice dangerously calm. “Spare me that. Do not mention his name before me. Not even his shadow. He is the last thing I want to hear.”Turner scoffed softly and stepped further i