The rain that morning fell like whispers of secrets — slow, cold, and heavy.
Every corner of the Morelle estate felt suffocated by tension. Reporters lingered outside the gates like vultures, and the walls that once echoed laughter now held their breath.
Inside the grand study, Ethan Morelle sat frozen, eyes locked on his phone screen.
An email had arrived ten minutes ago. No subject. No sender. Just one attachment.
He hesitated before opening it, but his curiosity clawed at him until he did.
It was a photo — grainy, yet clear enough to destroy him.
In it, he stood by the fountain at the back of the Morelle garden, his hands wrapped around Amira Lane's waist, her lips inches from his. The timestamp mocked him — three days before Clarissa's disappearance.
Beneath the photo was a single line of text:
> "Seventy million dollars. Two days. Or the world will know what kind of man you are."
Ethan's pulse quickened. He leaned back, his breathing sharp and uneven.
"Seventy million…" he muttered under his breath, disbelief sinking in. "This can't be happening."
He ran a trembling hand through his hair, guilt and fear clashing inside him. He knew whoever sent that message had the power to destroy everything — his marriage, his name, and whatever little reputation he had left in Clarissa's empire.
Then came the knock on the door. Firm. Purposeful.
"Mr. Morelle?" a deep voice called. "It's Ryan."
Mr. Ryan, the family's private investigator, entered the room without waiting for permission. His trench coat dripped rainwater onto the marble floor, his eyes sharp and unreadable.
"Morning, Ethan," he said quietly. "We need to talk."
Ethan's voice was tense. "What is it this time?"
Ryan dropped a brown folder onto the table, its edges stained with damp. "I've been going through Clarissa's phone records. The last call she made before she disappeared — it was to you."
Ethan swallowed hard. "I know. She wanted to talk."
"About what?" Ryan asked.
Ethan looked away. "It was personal."
Ryan leaned forward slightly. "Everything is personal now."
Silence filled the air. The sound of the rain outside was the only thing breaking it.
Finally, Ethan sighed. "She said she was meeting someone. She didn't tell me who. Just said it was 'important.'"
Ryan's brow furrowed. "And you didn't ask?"
"She didn't give me the chance." Ethan's voice cracked slightly. "That was the last time I heard her voice."
Ryan studied him for a moment. "You're hiding something."
"I'm not—"
Before Ethan could finish, Ryan flipped open the folder on the desk. Inside were printed screenshots — photos from a hidden camera. Ethan's blood ran cold.
Each image showed him with Amira Lane.
The garden. The terrace. The library.
Moments they thought were private — now evidence.
Ethan froze. "Where did you get those?"
Ryan's voice was steady. "A journalist tried to sell them this morning. They didn't know I'd be the one answering the call."
Ethan's jaw clenched. "This isn't what it looks like."
"Oh, it looks exactly like what it is," Ryan said softly, his gaze piercing. "An affair. With your wife's best friend."
Ethan's shoulders sank. "It started before the wedding anniversary," he admitted, voice low. "It wasn't supposed to happen. It just—"
"Just happened?" Ryan cut in sharply. "Clarissa was your wife, Ethan. And Amira Lane was practically her sister."
Ethan covered his face with his hands. "I know. I know."
Ryan's tone softened — slightly. "Does Lord Damien know?"
Ethan shook his head. "If he finds out, I'm done."
Ryan crossed his arms, studying him. "Someone's already found out. They're blackmailing you."
Ethan's eyes widened. "How do you—"
"I saw the email," Ryan interrupted. "You didn't close your laptop fast enough when I walked in."
Ethan froze.
"Seventy million dollars," Ryan continued. "That's not just blackmail, Ethan. That's war."
He moved closer. "Whoever's behind this knows everything — your affair, Clarissa's disappearance, and now your fear."
Ethan's voice trembled. "They said they'll expose me if I don't pay. And I can't even ask Lord Damien for help. He'll kill me himself."
Ryan's eyes darkened. "You don't need to pay a dime. You need to tell me everything. Now."
Ethan looked up, defeated. "It started months ago. Clarissa was always busy — board meetings, charity events, the company. I felt invisible. Amira was… there. She listened. She understood me."
Ryan stayed silent, letting him continue.
"One night after a gala, it just… happened. And it didn't stop."
"And you think your blackmailer knew?" Ryan asked.
"I don't know. But whoever they are, they've been watching for a long time."
Ryan tapped the edge of the desk thoughtfully. "The camera angles in those photos… they're from inside the estate. Which means someone close to the family did this."
Ethan's eyes widened. "You think—"
"I think Clarissa's kidnapping, your affair, and this blackmail are connected."
The room felt colder suddenly.
Ryan picked up one of the photos again. "You said Clarissa mentioned meeting someone that night. What if that person was the same one watching you?"
Ethan's expression twisted with shock. "You mean— the kidnapper?"
Ryan nodded slowly. "Someone who knew too much. Someone who wanted silence — or payment."
He closed the folder and straightened up. "Where did the $70 million figure come from, Ethan? Why that number?"
Ethan hesitated. "That's… the amount in Clarissa's private trust account. Only her father and she knew about it."
Ryan's jaw tightened. "Then someone inside her world wants her gone — and you ruined your alibi by getting involved with Amira."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Ethan could hear the storm intensify outside, as if the sky itself was angry.
Finally, Ryan turned to leave. "Don't leave the house, Ethan. Not until I say so."
"Do you think I did it?" Ethan asked, voice breaking.
Ryan paused by the door. "I think you know more than you're saying."
Then he left — his coat sweeping behind him like a shadow.
---
Later that night, Ryan sat in his car outside the Morelle gates, typing his notes under the flickering glow of the dashboard light.
Case File – Chapter 8
> Subject: Ethan Morelle
Evidence: Affair with Amira Lane confirmed
Motive: Unknown
Threat: $70 million blackmail
Hypothesis: Internal leak, possible family involvement
Next Lead: Pierce Street, Lot 9
He sighed, running a hand across his face. His instincts screamed that the answers were close — too close.
He started the car, rain smearing against the windshield. But before he could pull out, his phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
> "You're digging too deep, Ryan. Stop, or you'll join her."
Ryan's grip on the wheel tightened.
He looked up at the mansion's glowing windows — Amira's shadow moving behind one of them — and whispered:
> "Now I know I'm close."
Then he drove into the storm.