The message remained on every screen inside the Laurent-Cassel penthouse.
White letters.
Black background.
No sound.
No explanation.
Just a threat.
CLARA WAS ONLY THE BEGINNING.
Nobody moved at first.
Nobody wanted to be the first person to admit they were afraid.
But fear had entered the room anyway.
It slid under the doors, curled around the marble floors, and wrapped itself around every expensive throat in the room.
Vivienne Laurent-Cassel stood frozen near the conference table, one hand pressed against the polished edge as if the furniture could keep her upright.
Her makeup was still perfect.
Her blouse still tailored.
Her hair still pinned into something elegant.
But none of that mattered anymore.
Because Clara was missing.
And every lie Vivienne had built to control her world had collapsed into one ugly truth:
She had made her daughter visible to monsters.
