It had been nearly two weeks since Lila's disappearance, and the silence in the mansion had grown heavier with each passing day. The once lively house, always filled with laughter, footsteps, and the faint hum of music each time she comes to visit azalea now felt like a place where even whispers were afraid to linger.
I sit on my bedroom floor surrounded by open suitcases and piles of half-folded clothes. The room smells faintly of perfume and dust that same scent that lingers when something has been untouched for too long. I pick up one of my blue dresses, the one Lila helped me pick out for last year's school fair. She said it made me look "seriously grown up." I can still hear her laugh in my head, and for a moment, I almost smile as a tear rolls down from my left eyes, but then I quickly wiped it away.
But the smile fades quickly.
Nothing has felt right since she disappeared. The entire house feels different colder, quieter, like something is missing that can't be replaced. My father doesn't let me go to school anymore. He says it's safer that way. I stopped arguing after I saw the fear in his eyes that morning he told me. The kind of fear you can't fake.
So now, I stay here. Packing, unpacking, trying to distract myself from the gnawing dread that sits heavy in my chest.
I should be excited. I'm supposed to be preparing for New York a fresh start, new opportunities, everything I've ever dreamed about. But somehow, it doesn't feel like freedom anymore. It feels like running away. I said to myself.
From my window, I can see men in black suits patrolling the gates. My father hired more security after Aiden visited his office the other day. It's like we're living in a fortress now cameras everywhere, guards at every door, voices murmuring over walkie-talkies late into the night. Even the garden looks different, stripped of its calm.
Sometimes I just want to breathe without feeling watched. But that's impossible now. Every time I step out to get fresh air or even go shopping, two bodyguards follow me. They never say much, just trail behind me silently shadows in black coats. It's suffocating.
Still, I know it's not their fault. My father's doing everything he can. He's terrified. We all are.
I reach for the photo frame on my nightstand me and Lila, smiling under the fairground lights. She had candy floss in one hand and her other arm thrown over my shoulder. We looked so carefree, so alive. I trace my fingers over her face, whispering, "Where are you, Lila?"
I close my eyes for a moment and rest my head against the windowpane. The glass is cool against my skin. "Please," I murmur softly, "let her be okay."
A faint knock on my door makes me turn.
"Miss Azalea?" William's voice calls gently. He steps in, he's hands folded neatly in front of him, a worried look in his eyes. "Your father would like to see you in his study." He said.
I blink, surprised. "Now? Did he say why?"
He shakes his head. "No, miss. He just said it's urgent."
Something in his tone makes my stomach twist. Urgent. That word never means anything good in this house anymore.
"Alright," I say quietly, grabbing my phone and smoothing down my shirt. My heart is already thudding against my ribs.
The hallway feels colder than usual as I step out. The paintings of ancestors on the walls seem to stare down at me with their frozen expressions. My footsteps echo softly on the marble floor. The entire mansion feels like it's holding its breath.
As I walk past the grand staircase, I notice the guards stationed near the main doors tall, stoic men with unreadable faces. One of them nods slightly as I pass, and I give a faint smile that doesn't quite reach my lips.
When I reach my father's study, the heavy mahogany door is slightly open. There's a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. I pause, my hand hovering over the doorknob, hearing faint voices inside. I can't make out the words, just the low, tense tone of my father's voice.
I knock softly.
"Come in," he says almost immediately.
I push the door open. He's sitting behind his desk, papers spread out in front of him, though he doesn't seem to be reading any of them. The light from the desk lamp casts shadows across his face, deepening the lines of exhaustion around his eyes.
"Dad?" I step closer. "You wanted to see me?"
He looks up and forces a smile, but I can tell it's not real. "Yes, sweetheart. Sit down."
I take a seat across from him, my hands fidgeting in my lap. "What's going on? You look… worried."
He leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "There are some things happening, things I can't explain right now. But I need you to trust me, Azalea."
My chest tightens. "Is it about Lila?" I asked.
His eyes flicker just for a second but that's all it takes for me to know.
"Dad," I press gently. "Please. You've been acting strange for days. Just tell me the truth."
He stays silent for a moment, staring down at his hands. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, heavy. "It's nothing for you to worry about right now. What matters is your safety. You'll be leaving for New York soon. I want you to stay with at the mansion that has been prepared for your stay until everything settles down."
I stare at him, disbelief washing over me. "You're sending me away?"
"I'm protecting you," he says firmly, though I can hear the tremor in his voice. "You're all I have left."
My throat burns. "What do you mean 'all you have left'? Dad…"
He cuts me off, shaking his head. "Please, Azalea. Just do as I say."
The words hang in the air between us, sharp and final.
I look at him really look at him and for the first time, he doesn't look like the powerful man I've always known. He looks tired. Defeated. Haunted.
Something inside me twists painfully. "Okay," I whisper, standing slowly. "I'll do what you say."
As I turn to leave, my gaze falls on the framed photo on his desk me and my parents smiling beneath a bright summer sky. My heart aches so deeply it feels hard to breathe.
When I step out into the hallway again, I pause. The air feels different, heavier somehow. I can't explain it, but I feel like something's coming something big, something dangerous.
And deep down, I know one thing for sure:
Whatever my father isn't telling me… it's connected to Lila.
And sooner or later, I'm going to find out the truth.
The low hum of the television filled the room, blending with the faint clinking of ice in a crystal glass. Aiden leaned back against the white leather couch, the flickering light from the football match casting restless shadows across his sharp features. He wasn't really watching his gaze was distant, his thoughts elsewhere.
The door opened quietly. Kent stepped in, hands clasped behind his back, his expression as unreadable as ever.
"Sir," he began cautiously, "I thought you should know… it's confirmed. Miss Azalea will be leaving for New York in a few days."
Aiden didn't react at first. He simply swirled his drink, watching the amber liquid spin like liquid gold.
"You've told me this before, Kent," he said in a low voice. "That's twice now."
Kent hesitated. "Yes, sir. But… I thought you'd want to be reminded. Mr. Nolan has made sure she's heavily guarded. No one gets close anymore."
A faint smirk curved Aiden's lips. He set the glass down on the table with a soft click, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
"Guards don't bother me," he murmured. "They never have."
Kent frowned slightly. "What do you mean, sir?"
"Call the Los Angeles office," Aiden said suddenly, his tone cool and commanding. "Ask if the deal with N&E Liquor has gone through."
Kent nodded immediately, pulling out his phone. After a few tense moments, he spoke quietly into the receiver, his eyes flicking back toward Aiden.
"Yes, sir. The contract's still pending. Mr. Nolan hasn't been able to finalize it yet… seems he's been occupied."
Aiden's lips curved the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Occupied," he repeated softly. "Of course he is."
He stood and walked toward the large window overlooking the city. The night lights shimmered across his face, half in shadow, half illuminated a man carved between charm and danger.
"Prepare the car," Aiden said finally, his voice low and deliberate as he kept his eyes on the city lights bleeding through the glass. "We're going to pay Nolan another visit at his office tomorrow."
Kent looked up from his notepad, blinking in surprise. "To see Mr. Nolan again, sir?"
Aiden didn't answer right away. He swirled the last of his scotch in the glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light before setting it down with quiet precision. His reflection in the window looked almost ghostly half shadow, half-smirk.
"Yes," he said at last, his tone smooth but edged with something darker. "If he wants that deal so badly…" He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing, the faintest curl of a smile touching his lips. "…then he'll have to earn it."