Clara's heart was pounding by the time she reached the west wing. The silence of the house pressed against her ears, it was thick and suffocating. She had searched every room twice, the terrace, the library, even the greenhouse, but Ava was nowhere to be found.
She hesitated outside Damian's office door, gripping her tablet so tightly her knuckles turned white. Knocking felt like a bad idea, but not knocking was worse.
Finally, she raised her hand and rapped softly on the door.
"Come in," came the low voice from inside.
Damian was at his desk, a half-drunk cup of coffee beside him, his tie slightly loosened. He didn't look up when she entered, just flipped another page in the file in front of him.
Clara closed the door quietly behind her. "Sir," she began carefully, "I... I've checked everywhere, but I can't find Miss Sinclair."
That made him pause.
Slowly, Damian looked up, his expression unreadable. "What do you mean, you can't find her?"
