The clock in the foyer struck midnight, the heavy tolls echoing through the empty halls like a funeral march. Richard didn’t go to bed. He went to his study, slamming the door behind him. He needed action, not rest. The image of Giselle’s packed bags was burned into his retinas, a silent accusation that he had let the only thing that made him feel alive slip through his fingers.
He snatched the desk phone and punched in a direct line he hadn't used in months.
"This is Chief Miller," a gruff voice answered on the second ring. "Richard? It’s late. Is everything alright?"
"I’m sorry this is such an awkward time to call. My daughter-in-law is missing, Miller," Richard said, his voice clipped and cold. "Giselle Hemingway. She left the estate in the morning. Her phone is off. I need a trace o
