Alex's shoes echoed sharply against the polished floor as he approached the garage, his chest tight with worry.
Every step felt heavier, weighed down by the growing dread that had taken root since discovering Emma's absence.
He spotted the driver standing near the doorway, casually straightening his uniform. Alex approached him quickly, his voice sharp and urgent.
"Mr. Parker, do you remember the route to that friend of Emma's—the one you took her to last time?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
The driver furrowed his brow in thought. "Ah, sir, it wasn't a friend's house," he said after a moment. "It was a restaurant. I dropped her off there."
Alex's stomach dropped, and his shoulders sagged slightly. "A restaurant?" he echoed, his frustration evident.
"Yes, sir. She said she was meeting someone there," the driver explained.
Alex rubbed a hand over his face, frustration mixing with despair. A restaurant didn't give him much to go on.
Behind him, Claire spoke up, her voice steady despite the worry etched on her face. "Alex, let's check the restaurant first. If nothing else, we might be able to get the CCTV footage. Maybe we'll see who she met and if we can recognise her or not."
At the mention of CCTV, Alex's head snapped toward her, an idea sparking in his mind. "The house CCTV," he muttered, his voice low but resolute.
Without another word, he turned and rushed back inside, heading straight for his study where the security system was monitored.
In the midst of everything going on, he had totally forgotten all about the CCTV in his house and maybe if Claire hadn't mentioned it, he probably wouldn't have remembered.
His heart pounded in his chest, and his palms felt clammy as he powered up the system and navigated to the footage from earlier in the day.
He scrolled back to the time-stamp when he suspected Emma had left. His eyes scanned the screen, and then he saw her—Emma walking out of the house, her phone in one hand, and her jacket slung over her body.
"Emma…" he whispered under his breath, his fingers tightening around the edge of the desk, forgetting fir a moment that she couldn't hear him.
The footage continued, showing her stepping out of the gate. Alex leaned closer, his stomach twisting in knots.
A car pulled up almost immediately, and two men got out. His breath hitched as he watched them grab Emma, her body flailing as she tried to resist.
"No," he muttered, his voice trembling.
The men shoved her into the car before speeding off, leaving nothing behind but the faint image of their vehicle disappearing down the street.
Alex's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. His jaw tightened as fury and fear coursed through him.
He rewound the footage and played it again, this time taking in every detail—the car, the way Emma struggled, the brief flash of her terrified face.
He was too focused on the terrified look on Emma's face that he hadn't noticed the gadget that had fallen on the ground.
"Damn it!" he growled, slamming his fist against the desk.
Claire, who had followed him into the study, stood frozen behind him. She placed a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "Oh my God," she whispered.
Alex turned to her, his expression hard but his voice laced with desperation. "We need to track her phone," he said, already pulling out his own.
Claire nodded quickly, her mind racing to think of anyone they could contact for help. "Since her phone is still on, we can find her," she said, though her voice was tinged with uncertainty.
Alex didn't respond immediately, his focus on dialing a number. His mind was spinning with questions, each one more agonizing than the last. Where is she? What are they doing to her? What do they want? Is she… safe? Why would anyone want to kidnap her?
As he waited for the call to connect, his gaze flicked back to the screen showing the timestamp of the footage. He realized it had been over six hours since the kidnapping.
"Six hours…" he muttered under his breath. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Six hours in their custody. Anything could have happened in that time.
The phone call connected, and Alex's voice was steady but urgent. "I need a favor. I need someone's phone tracked—immediately."
As he waited for the response, his mind continued to race. Was this about money? Revenge? Who were these people, and why had they targeted Emma?
His hands trembled slightly as he gripped the phone tighter. "I'll send the details. Just find her," he said through gritted teeth, his voice breaking slightly. "Find her before it's too late."
He ended the call and leaned heavily against the desk, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. Claire approached him cautiously, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"We'll find her, Alex," she said softly, though her own fear was evident.
Alex nodded but didn't say anything. His mind was filled with the haunting image of Emma being dragged into that car, her terrified face seared into his memory.
He straightened, his jaw set with determination. No matter what it took, he would bring her back.
"I'll go get you a glass of water," Claire said before leaving Alex to go get him a cool glass of water.
Chris sped toward Alex's house, his thoughts consumed by worry. Emma's absence was more unsettling with every passing moment, and Alex's desperation on the phone earlier only deepened his unease.
As he neared the gate, something caught his eye on the ground—a phone lying face down on the gravel.
He frowned, bringing his car to a halt. His heart skipped a beat as he picked it up, recognizing the familiar case. Could this be Emma's phone? He remembered seeing something similar in Emma's hands that afternoon.
"This can't be good," he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening around the device. Without hesitation, he rushed inside, his mind racing with questions.
When Chris entered the house, he found Alex pacing the living room, his posture tense, phone in hand. The moment Alex spotted him, his gaze dropped to the phone in Chris's hand, and his expression shifted—first confusion, then dread.
"Where did you find that?" Alex demanded, his voice sharp. A part of him didn't want to believe to what his mind was telling him.
"Outside, by the gate," Chris said, holding it out.
Alex snatched the phone from Chris, his hands trembling as he stared at it. It was Emma's, no doubt about it. The hope he'd clung to—that her phone could be tracked—crumbled in an instant. His shoulders sagged, and his chest tightened with despair.
"She must've dropped it when…" His voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.
"When what?" Chris asked, his eyes narrowing.
"She was kidnapped," Alex said, his voice low.
"What?" Chris asked in shock.
Claire emerged from the hallway, her brows furrowing when she spotted Chris. "Chris?" she said, her tone a mix of surprise and suspicion. "What are you doing here?"
Chris glanced at her, momentarily thrown off by her reaction. "I came to check on Alex and—"
"You know him?" Claire interrupted, turning to Alex.
Alex, who was still staring at Emma's phone, looked up briefly. "Chris is my friend," he said simply.
Claire blinked, her confusion deepening. "Since when?"
Alex exhaled sharply, his patience thinning under the weight of his worry. "Claire, not now. We'll talk about it later."
The tension in the room was palpable, Claire's questioning gaze flicking between Chris and Alex. Chris avoided her eyes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.
Alex, however, had no time for awkward silences. His mind was racing with only one thought: finding Emma. With renewed urgency, he picked up his phone and dialed Harry again.
Chris frowned, watching Alex with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Who are you calling now?" he asked.
"Harry," Alex said, his tone clipped.
"Why?" Chris pressed.
He didn't need to ask who Harry was since he had been friends long enough with Alex to know.
Alex hesitated, then sighed. "I asked him to place men to watch over Emma. In the shadows. They've been with her since we got married."
Claire's eyes widened, and Chris's brows shot up. The revelation hit them both like a bolt of lightning.
"Since when?" Claire asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Since the beginning," Alex admitted, his voice tight with frustration. "But they're not picking up, neither is Harry and now Emma's gone."
Chris and Claire exchanged glances, the weight of Alex's words sinking in. Neither said anything, but the question lingered between them: How long has Alex felt this way about Emma?
The phone in Alex's hand buzzed suddenly, jolting him. He glanced at the screen—Harry was calling.
Without hesitation, Alex answered, his voice sharp. "Harry! Why haven't you been picking up?"