Mia's heart sank.
A faint scent of fir lingered in the room, but the person was gone.
She moved silently along the wall, scanning her surroundings.
The bed was perfectly smooth, without a single wrinkle. The scrolls on the desk were stacked neatly.
Everything was in perfect order—not what you'd expect from a place occupied by someone who had just been overwhelmed by a drug.
'Where did he go?'
Mia's gaze swept over every corner of the room.
The window was shut tight.
The only exit was the door she had come through.
'No, that's not right.'
Her eyes landed on a massive wardrobe in the corner.
Its position was strange. It wasn't flush against the wall, leaving an unnatural gap. For a subordinate as obsessive-compulsive as Philip, such an imperfection would be intolerable.
Mia walked over and gave the wardrobe a tentative push.
