Twenty-four hours.
Eddie had been staring at the same legal document for an hour, but he hadn't read a single line. His mind was 2,000 miles away, in Houston.
He was waiting. The irritation from yesterday had cooled into a hard, cold knot in his stomach. He was a man who hated variables, and Bianca had just become one massive, unpredictable variable.
His intercom buzzed, sharp and sudden. "Mr. West is here, sir."
"Send him in."
The door opened, and Marcus entered, holding a slim, gray file. He moved with his usual quiet efficiency, placing the file on Eddie's desk.
"You were right to be concerned," Marcus said, his voice a low rumble. "She's gone."
Eddie kept his expression neutral, turning from the window to face him. "The mother? Is the story true?"
"No," Marcus said. He opened the file. "She's with her mother in Houston. I have the address. But Clara Carter is in perfect health. No hospital visits, no recent medical issues. The 'family emergency' was a lie."
Eddie's jaw tightened. "She lied."
"She covered her tracks," Marcus continued, his voice flat. "Booked a last-minute, one-way, first-class ticket out of JFK. Paid cash. She left her work phone, as you know, and her personal cell is disconnected. She's using a prepaid burner. She has been out once, to a small medical clinic near her mother's house. Paid in cash for that, too."
A medical clinic. Eddie's mind raced. Was she sick?
"This is deliberate, Eddie," Marcus said, his eyes sharp. "She didn't just run. She vanished. This is a woman who is actively trying to hide."
It confirmed Eddie's worst fear. She was running from him. He had shown her his complicated life, and she had fled. The prideful, angry sting of rejection was sharp.
"She has sensitive information," Eddie said, his voice cold. "She knows the entire structure of the acquisition."
"She does," Marcus agreed. "Which makes her a significant security risk."
"Find out why she really ran," Eddie commanded. "I want a team on her, Marcus. A quiet one. No one gets close, but I want to know everything. I want to know who she's talking to, what she was doing at that clinic. I want to know her next move before she does."
Marcus nodded slowly. He understood the order. He also understood what was underneath it. "I'll handle it."
"Good. Keep me updated."
Marcus left. Eddie turned back to the window. So, she was in Houston. She thought she could just disappear. He looked at his phone, at her blocked, disconnected number.
"You can't hide from me, Bianca," he whispered to the empty room. "No one walks away from me."
The small kitchen in Houston was warm and smelled like garlic and onions. Bianca sat at the worn laminate table, her laptop open. She wasn't looking at case law; she was looking at job websites for remote legal work.
It was a dead end. Every decent-paying job required a background check, a formal interview, and a name on a payroll. A name that could be found.
Clara placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her. "Eat."
"I'm not hungry, Mom."
"You're eating for two, so 'not hungry' doesn't count," Clara said, sitting across from her. "Now, what's the plan? You can't just hide here forever. That 'indefinite leave' is going to turn into 'fired' pretty soon, and that New York salary will stop."
"I know," Bianca said, rubbing her temples. "I have savings. Enough for a while. Enough for the baby. But I can't be a public-facing lawyer right now. I can't be on any system he can find."
Clara sipped her coffee, her eyes hard. "This man... he's the kind of man who would look?"
"He's the kind of man who runs an empire," Bianca said, her voice hollow.
"Then we find a different way," Clara said, her voice fierce. "You'll find a way. You always do."
Across the country, Kane Rollins sat in his car, staring at the screen of his phone.
Another wire transfer notification. Fifty thousand dollars. It was the third one from the Pearsons.
It felt like an insult.
They weren't just paying him for his silence. They were erasing him. They were stealing his child.
He wasn't just a "loose end." He was a father.
He opened a new text message to Tasha.
Money isn't enough.
He hit send.
A reply came back almost instantly. Kane, don't. Please. It's complicated. I'll send you more.
He gripped the phone, his knuckles white.
I don't want more money. I want to see my daughter. Or I'm telling him. I'm telling Eddie everything.