Marco's heart skipped a beat. He ran back outside. The street was crowded. People were laughing and talking, but Eimi was nowhere to be found.
"Eimi!" he shouted, his voice full of sudden fear. "Eimi!"
He ran up and down the street. He checked the cafes, the side alleys, and even the subway entrance. He called her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. He looked at the ground and saw something sparkling near the curb.
He leaned down and picked it up. It was Eimi's phone. The screen was cracked, and the emerald ring she usually wore was lying in the dirt next to it.
The blood drained from Marco's face. She hadn't walked away. Someone had taken her. In the middle of a busy street, right under his nose, his wife had been kidnapped.
Marco's heart skipped a beat. He ran back outside. The street was crowded. People were laughing and talking, but Eimi was nowhere to be found.
"Eimi!" he shouted, his voice full of sudden fear. "Eimi!"
He ran up and down the street. He checked the cafes, the side alleys, and even the subway entrance. He called her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. He looked at the ground and saw something sparkling near the curb.
He leaned down and picked it up. It was Eimi's phone. The screen was cracked, and the emerald ring she usually wore was lying in the dirt next to it.
The blood drained from Marco's face. She hadn't walked away. Someone had taken her. In the middle of a busy street, right under his nose, his wife had been kidnapped.
Marco didn't waste a second. He called his elite security team and the local police. Within an hour, the area was filled with sirens. Marco stood in the middle of the street, his hands shaking as he held her broken phone.
"Find her!" Marco screamed at his men. "Check every camera! Check every car that drove past this street!"
Hours passed. The sun went down, and the cold Paris night moved in. Marco sat in a dark room at the police station, staring at a wall of security monitors. They saw Eimi walking toward the bookstore, but then a large white van blocked the camera's view for five seconds. When the van moved, Eimi was gone.
There was no license plate on the van. There were no witnesses.
"We lost the signal, Mr. Moretti," the lead detective said softly. "The van disappeared into the heavy traffic. We don't know where she is."
The Breaking Point
Marco walked out of the police station and stood in the rain. He looked at the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Only yesterday, they were standing there, promising to be together forever. Now, she was gone, and he had no idea if she was even alive.
For the first time in his life, Marco felt completely powerless. He had all the money in the world, but he couldn't find the one person who made his life worth living. He fell to his knees on the wet sidewalk, gripping Eimi's ring so hard it cut into his palm.
"I promised to protect you," he whispered, his voice breaking into a sob. "I promised."
He looked at the dark city. Somewhere in these thousands of streets, Eimi was trapped and scared. Marco felt a cold, deep regret. He should have never brought her here. He should have never looked away.
The "City of Light" now felt like the darkest place on earth. Marco stood up, his eyes turning back into ice, but this time, the ice was filled with a desperate, silent pain. He would not sleep. He would not eat. He would burn Paris to the ground until he found her.
Marco stood in the exact spot where Eimi had been standing only minutes ago. The happy sounds of the Paris evening—the music from the cafes and the laughter of tourists—now sounded like a nightmare to him.
He looked down at the cold, wet ground. Something caught the light of the streetlamp. He knelt down, his heart hammering against his ribs, and picked up a small, rectangular object.
It was Eimi's phone. The screen was completely shattered, like someone had stepped on it with great force. Next to it, lying in the dirt, was the emerald ring he had given her—the one that represented the Moretti family.
Marco gripped the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. He didn't just feel scared; he felt a cold, sharp rage. He realized that this wasn't a random accident. Someone had been following them. Someone had waited for the exact second Marco turned his back to take her.
"No," he whispered, his voice shaking. "No, no, no."
He stood up and looked around the crowded street. He grabbed a man walking by by the shoulders. "Did you see her? A woman in a white coat! She was right here!"
The man looked at Marco with fear and shook his head. "I didn't see anything, Monsieur. It is too crowded."
Marco ran to the small bookstore Eimi wanted to visit. He burst through the door, his eyes wild. "Eimi! Are you in here?"
The shopkeeper looked up, startled. "No one is here, sir. Only me."
Marco walked out of the shop and stood on the sidewalk. He looked at the cracked phone in his hand. He realized that his enemies had outsmarted him. They had waited for him to be happy, to be relaxed, and to be alone with his wife in a foreign city.
He remembered his promise to her. "I will make sure you feel this way every day for the rest of your life." He had promised to protect her, but he had failed. He had let her go across the street alone for a book, and now she was gone.
Marco pulled out his own phone and called his lead security officer. "She's gone," Marco said, his voice sounding like a ghost. "Seal the city. I want every camera checked. I want every car on this street tracked. If you don't find her in one hour, I will burn this city to the ground."
He stood in the rain, staring at the empty space where she used to be. The "City of Love" had become a city of shadows. Marco put her ring in his pocket, his eyes turning into cold, dark ice. He wouldn't stop until he found the people who took her, and when he did, he would show them why he was the most dangerous man in Italy.