Chapter Two: The Secret Silence
For two long days, the world remained quiet.
No sirens. No headlines. No breaking news banners flashing Clarissa Morelle's name.
The Morelle family, one of the most powerful and untouchable names in the country, had done the impossible — they had erased a crime from the public eye.
Clarissa's father, Lord Damien Morelle, moved faster than the authorities themselves. The villa where she had been taken was locked down before midnight. Security cameras were seized. Guards were interrogated privately. Every call in and out of the estate was monitored. Even the household staff was told to keep silent — or lose everything they owned.
The Morelles had influence in every corner of society. The police didn't dare question their instructions.
> "Not a word," Lord Damien had warned, his voice cold and steady.
"Until we find her, no one — I repeat, no one — says a thing."
Inside the grand mansion, silence sat heavy like fog.
Clarissa's mother wept quietly in her room, her sobs muffled by silk pillows.
Her husband, Ethan Cole, had barely slept — pacing the marble halls, asking questions no one could answer.
He had gone to the villa himself the next morning. He saw the broken glass door, the scattered jewelry, the faint trace of her perfume still hanging in the air. It broke him in ways he couldn't describe.
But the family didn't want his grief — they wanted his silence.
> "You will not speak to the police directly," Lord Damien told him firmly. "You will let our men handle this."
"She's my wife," Ethan protested. "You can't keep me out of this."
"She's my daughter," Damien snapped, his eyes dark with power. "And this family's name comes before your emotions."
So Ethan kept quiet, his anger swallowing his voice.
For forty-eight hours, the Morelle estate became a fortress of whispers — a place where truth was chained behind gold-plated walls.
But secrets don't stay buried forever.
On the third morning, an uninvited visitor arrived.
A familiar voice echoed from the gates — Amira Lane, Clarissa's lifelong friend. She had come, as she always did, unannounced and smiling, carrying her usual bag of gifts.
The guards hesitated, exchanging uneasy looks.
> "Miss Amira," one of them said, forcing a polite tone. "The family isn't receiving visitors right now."
"Not receiving visitors?" Amira frowned. "That's strange. Clarissa told me she'd be home this week."
The man looked away. "She's… not available."
Amira's eyes narrowed. "Not available? What does that even mean?"
When they refused to let her in, she felt a cold wave of dread rush through her. Something was wrong —
And when she finally managed to slip past the staff entrance, she saw the truth for herself — the heavy silence, the drawn faces, the air thick with fear.
That was the moment the secret began to crack.
By afternoon, whispers had reached the household staff's families. By evening, someone — no one knew who — made a single anonymous call to a small local news outlet.
And by dawn the next day, every major channel was flashing the same shocking headline:
> "Clarissa Morelle — Heiress to the Morelle Empire — Reported Missing."
The secret was out.
The storm had begun.
And for Amira Lane, life would never be the same again.