Another Day
The grandfather clock in the study ticked like a slow, patient warning. Adrian sat at his desk, staring blankly at the untouched scotch in his glass. Outside, the sun had just begun to rise, casting a gray-blue tint over the estate.
His phone buzzed.
"Grandfather," he answered, his voice clipped and neutral, as if everything was fine with him.
Elias Blake never wasted words. He went straight to the point.
"Just thought of reminding you of the gala coming up. Make sure to bring Seraphina with you."
Adrian's jaw clenched.
"Understood."
"There's something I want to give her — your grandmother's bracelet. She left instructions for it to go to her grandson's wife, and your wife deserves it." A pause followed, then a quiet edge of warning. "Don't make me look like a fool in front of the board, Adrian. That girl is your key. Don't forget that."
The call ended without a goodbye.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ornate ceiling. His hand tightened around the glass before he set it down, untouched once again.
A knock came.
Stephen entered a beat later, his expression unreadable.
"Well?" Adrian asked, voice low.
Stephen sighed. "Nothing yet. It's like she vanished into thin air. No security footage. No GPS pings. We found her phone and wallet, but everything was dumped outside the estate gate, like someone wanted us to know she's missing. Either someone knows how to wipe a trail clean… or she planned this."
Adrian's gaze sharpened. "She didn't plan anything. She threw her ring at me and walked out. She was emotional, but not stupid."
"What if she and her family made this plan to make you search for her? Maybe we should let her family know she's missing. They might know where she is, before things go south," Stephen suggested.
"She can't be stupid enough to ghost me like this," Adrian said, then continued, "As for telling her parents, I don't think that's the best solution right now. That might cause a problem for me since she went missing from my end."
Adrian believed Seraphina wouldn't be naïve enough to test his love. Everyone close to them knew he wasn't in love with Seraphina — including Seraphina herself. So what was the point of testing him over some foolish love that couldn't give him anything?
And his gut told him Seraphina was truly missing.
Stephen nodded. "We'll double-check with our private network. I'm expanding the radius. But right now… no one's seen her."
Even Stephen felt something was fishy about this whole matter, but he couldn't place it.
Adrian stood, moving to the tall window behind his desk. The sun was now fully up, gilding the sky in pale gold, but it brought no warmth to the cold gnawing at his insides.
"She needs to be found," he said flatly. "If I show up at that gala without her, I will lose everything I've worked for."
Stephen stayed silent. He knew better than to offer empty comfort.
Adrian's fists clenched behind his back.
Without Seraphina, there would be no marriage.
No alliance.
No Hart family backing.
No inheritance from Elias.
Everything he had clawed to build would slip from his grasp. The company… the Blake name… gone.
He had built himself out of nothing. The bastard son. The unwanted heir. The one they all said would never make it.
He didn't come this far to lose everything now.
His phone buzzed again. He frowned at the name.
Juliana Hart. Seraphina's mother.
He hesitated before answering, forcing his tone back to that smooth, polished calm.
"Mrs. Hart."
Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. "Adrian… good morning. Sorry to call so early. I just… I wanted to ask if Seraphina's alright?"
A pause.
He kept his voice measured.
"She's fine."
"She… missed her gown fitting yesterday. I tried calling her but I couldn't reach her. It kept going straight to voicemail."
Adrian responded smoothly.
"She turned her phone off before leaving. Wanted to disconnect for a bit."
"Disconnected? Why?" Juliana asked.
"She's not in the country at the moment," Adrian cut in gently. "She needed some space. After a minor disagreement between us. Nothing serious, I assure you. She'll be back soon."
There was silence on the line. Then—
"Oh… I see."
Juliana's voice was calm, but he could hear the unease beneath it. Like she wanted to ask more, but wouldn't dare.
"She's still excited about the wedding," Adrian added, his tone softer, almost reassuring. "She just needed a little break before the big day."
"Of course," Juliana said. "I understand. Please tell her… I miss her."
"I will."
He ended the call before she could ask anything else.
Stephen watched him quietly.
Adrian turned away from the window, back into the cold shadows of the room.
"This is getting out of hand," he muttered. "Find her. I don't care how."
Stephen nodded.
Adrian moved toward his desk again, his gaze falling on the untouched scotch. Then, with a motion of disgust, he pushed it aside.
He needed to do something soon, or else everything he had worked for would be gone.
---
A Few Hours Later
The low hum of voices, dice clattering, and the occasional shout filled the stale air of the underground gambling den. Neon lights flickered above chipped tables where desperate men clung to luck like lifelines.
But everything slowed when Adrian Blake walked in.
Dressed in black, his sharp-cut coat brushing his knees, Adrian's presence was a blade — cold, commanding, unmistakable. The few who recognized him straightened instantly; others instinctively stepped aside, drawn by something they couldn't name but knew better than to challenge.
He didn't glance sideways as he moved past tables and desperate gamblers. Instead, he headed straight to the back — a dimly lit hallway behind thick velvet curtains — and into a private office guarded by two men who didn't dare question him.
Followed closely behind him was Stephen, his assistant.
Inside, the air smelled of whiskey and smoke.
The man behind the desk stood up fast. "Mr. Blake — sir, we weren't expecting you in person."
Adrian said nothing. His gaze was flint.
"I asked for a list," he said, voice low but firm. "You said you'd have it ready."
"Yes—yes, of course," the man stammered, scrambling to pull a thick, leather-bound ledger from a drawer and placing it on the table like an offering. "Everything's in there. Top ten debtors. Family profiles included. As you asked. We would have brought it to you tomorrow."
"You're the one who gave my money to a nobody, right?" Adrian asked.
"I… I thought he was capable of paying," the den manager stuttered.
"Pray he is capable of paying back. Or else you will have to pay for it yourself… with your head." Adrian deliberately paused before finishing, his threat making the man swallow hard.
The den officer didn't even know how Calder had been able to borrow that amount. His stupid boys must have slacked off and now put him in trouble.
Adrian pulled off his gloves, tossed them onto the table, and flipped the ledger open.
He began turning pages — one after another.
Name after name.
Family after family.
Page turned.
Adrian's fingers paused.
Basic profile. Birth date. Occupation history. Debt history.
Then Philip Calder — the name he was actually interested in.
He was unhappy, and he needed someone to bear that for him.
As he opened the file, he saw a paper labeled Next of kin.
A scanned passport photo.
A young woman.
Dark hair, pulled back. Plain clothes. Tired eyes — but striking. Almost haunting.
Name: Raya Calder.
Age: 23.
Occupation: Multiple side jobs.
No criminal record.
Adrian's hand stilled.
The noise in the room — the soft fan, the distant clatter from outside — faded into nothing.
He stared.
The photo was low-quality, a document scan at best. A pair of gray eyes stared back at him. But her face… that face.
It shouldn't exist twice. But it seemed to have.
His jaw clenched, breath still.
It wasn't Seraphina. The file said as much. Different name. Different life.
But the eyes. The bone structure. Even the tilt of her lips.
It was like looking at a version of Seraphina without the gloss, without the glamour… without the riches.
His fingers hovered over the page, then curled into a fist.
The den manager moved nervously across from him, unsure what he'd seen.
Even Stephen was on alert, watching his reaction carefully.
Adrian didn't speak for some time.
He kept looking at the picture, his eyes narrowing.
"Stephen," he said, his voice low, unreadable.
Stephen stepped closer, leaning slightly to glance at the page. "She looks like—"
"Exactly like her," Adrian cut in, flipping the file shut with a snap. "Who is she?" he asked again, even after he had read her information.
"Raya Calder. She is twenty-three. Daughter to Philip Calder. No criminal record. She has been the one paying her father's debts over the years, according to what we gathered, and never failed to pay. But she's nothing… just a poor lady, not the madam," the den manager explained again.
Adrian's jaw tensed. "Get everything on her. Where she works, where she lives. Now."
"On it, sir," Stephen replied, already pulling out his phone.
Adrian simply closed the folder with precision and stood.
His eyes narrowed. The face in the file was not Seraphina's. The eyes told him everything — very different. Seraphina's were almond-shaped, while this woman's were gray.
But she might as well become