The city had plunged into an unusual frenzy that night. One part of it fell into sudden darkness while another lit up with the chaotic pulse of red and blue emergency lights. In front of MoonStruck Resorts, that towering monument to money, excess, and old power, flames climbed the walls like they had been waiting years for the chance.
The Blackstone family stood at the center of it all. Their only son and heir, Enzo, had vanished somewhere inside the burning building, and the smell of deliberate arson hung thick in the air.
A female reporter fought to keep her voice steady as she spoke into the camera, the fire roaring behind her shoulder. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said, each word carrying the weight of the moment, "this is an appalling situation. The fire does not appear to be an accident, and Enzo Blackstone — the man meant to carry forward this powerful legacy — is nowhere to be found. This looks like a well-planned tragedy."
Just then, a sleek black SUV tore around the corner and screeched to a stop near the police barricade. The doors opened and Stello Blackstone stepped out first, his face set in hard lines, the dark suit he wore matching the shadows under his eyes. Scarlene came right after him, coat half-open, her movements sharp with barely contained urgency. The moment they appeared, the air around them seemed to shift. These were not people who had come to watch. They had come for answers.
A group of men in black suits moved in quickly, forming a tight circle around Stello. Their heads dipped in respect, but their shoulders stayed tense, ready.
"What is the situation?" Stello asked. His voice stayed remarkably level, but the tightness in his jaw told a different story.
One of the men cleared his throat, struggling to meet his eyes. "Boss, we were right beside Sir Enzo the whole time, but…" He trailed off, the rest of the sentence too heavy to push out.
Stello gave a single nod. He didn't need the failure explained in detail. "And now? Do we have any information on his whereabouts?"
"No, Boss. But we've already sent out search parties. We'll find him before sunrise," another man answered, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Stello turned his gaze back to the burning resort. The flames reflected in his eyes, turning them a harsh orange. Before he could say anything else, Scarlene's hand settled on his shoulder, her fingers pressing hard enough to wrinkle the fabric of his suit.
"What now?" she asked, her voice cracking at the edges with the kind of fear only a mother carries. "What if we can't find him in time?"
Stello placed his hand over hers, offering what little steadiness he could. "We will find him," he said firmly. "You don't have to worry. I won't let anything happen to our son."
Scarlene leaned into him for a moment, her lashes catching the fiery glow as she took what comfort she could from his presence. The embrace lasted only a few seconds before Stello's phone rang, cutting through the noise of sirens and shouting.
Scarlene stepped back as he pulled the phone from his pocket. The moment she saw the name on the screen, her expression changed — suspicion and old resentment flashing across her face.
"Why is she calling you?" she demanded, eyes locked on her husband.
Stello didn't offer an explanation. He answered the call while keeping a firm grip on Scarlene's hand, as if afraid she might pull away completely. "Hello?"
The woman's voice came through the line, smooth and laced with deliberate sweetness. "Oh, thank God, dear. You actually picked up. I thought you wouldn't, as always."
Stello's tone turned cold and flat. "What business do you have?"
"Love, why are you talking to me in that tone? Is your wife standing right there or something?" The sarcasm dripped through the speaker, sharp enough to cut.
Scarlene's eyes narrowed, the betrayal she had buried long ago rising fresh and hot in her chest.
Stello moved to end the call, but the woman interrupted him quickly. "No, no, no! Don't hang up. Or you will regret it."
"Stop spouting nonsense," Stello growled, his face hardening like the night air had frozen every muscle.
"Don't hang up, Stello," she warned again, her voice losing some of its playful edge.
"What good reason do you have?" he hissed, patience wearing thin.
"Your son."
Both Stello and Scarlene froze. Before Stello could react, Scarlene snatched the phone from his hand, pressing it to her ear. "Hello! This is me! Where is my son?" The words came out raw, every syllable heavy with an overprotective mother's fear and anger.
A low, amused laugh traveled through the line. "Haha! Scarlene, it's so pleasant to hear from you."
"Where is my son?" Scarlene snapped. "Tell me before I rip out your heart!"
Hansel continued, clearly savoring the moment. "About that… He is in my bedroom."
Scarlene's face twisted with a surge of fury and confusion. She glanced up at the blazing building as if it could somehow explain the insanity coming through the phone. "Stop spouting nonsense!"
"Oh, I'm not spouting nonsense," Hansel replied, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "I can show you a picture if you don't believe me. He's sleeping now, must be tired after the long night." He let the words hang, making the implication sound as intimate and damning as possible.
Scarlene stood paralyzed for a moment, anger and fear battling across her features. She turned to Stello, her voice dropping but still trembling with barely controlled emotion. "Enzo… is with her."
Stello's eyes sharpened. "What did she say?"
"Enzo is with her," Scarlene repeated, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. Her grip on the phone stayed white-knuckled as the fire continued to roar behind them, lighting up the night in harsh, flickering waves.
The chaos around the burning resort kept growing, but for the Blackstones the real storm had just begun somewhere far from the flames.