Threads of the Past
Ethan didn't sleep that night. The mansion was filled with the quiet hum of security radios, the distant echo of footsteps. Clara sat curled on the couch in the study, watching the rain streak the windows. Every drop felt like the ticking of a clock — each second that Eleanor was gone tightening the noose around their hearts.
"Do you think she's still alive?" she asked softly.
Ethan's head lifted. His voice was low. "She's strong. She raised me, Clara. If anyone can endure Isabella's games, it's her."
Clara nodded but didn't speak. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes — the fear he tried so hard to hide.
Suddenly, Damien entered, holding a small black file. "I think I found something."
He laid it on the table. Inside were photographs — Isabella with Victor, standing near an old pier. Ethan's hands clenched.
"That's the same place she mentioned before — the east docks," Damien said. "Victor's using it again."
Clara felt a chill crawl down her spine. "That's where he kept me before…"
Ethan's eyes flickered with rage. "Then that's where we start."
But Damien shook his head. "Not yet. We move too fast, we'll lose her. Victor's careful — and Isabella's unpredictable. We need a plan."
Ethan exhaled sharply, pacing the room. "Then we make one. Tonight."
Outside, the storm began to quiet, but the air inside remained thick — a storm of its own.
The next morning, Clara walked into the kitchen only to find Victoria waiting by the counter, her hands wrapped around a cup of untouched tea.
"Clara," she said softly, almost hesitant.
Clara froze. "Victoria?"
"I need to tell you something," Victoria said, her tone trembling. "About Isabella."
Clara's heart quickened. "You know where she is?"
"No. But I know what she did." Victoria's gaze dropped. "She's been spreading lies to the press — saying you and Damien are having an affair. Ethan doesn't believe it, but…"
Clara's stomach turned. "But?"
Victoria hesitated. "He's hurt. And when Ethan is hurt, he becomes reckless."
Before Clara could respond, footsteps echoed down the hall. Ethan entered, his phone in hand, his jaw tense. "We're moving out."
Clara frowned. "Already?"
"Damien found movement near the docks. I'm not waiting."
She wanted to argue, to tell him to think, but she saw the storm in his eyes. He wouldn't stop — not until Eleanor was safe.
As they left the mansion, Clara whispered a prayer — not just for Eleanor, but for the man beside her whose heart was unraveling faster than he realized.