It's been a week since Peyton disappeared, and the world feels like it's crumbling around me. Every corner of my life is shadowed by her absence, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to shake the gnawing panic that keeps growing stronger with each passing day.
Every news outlet has plastered her face across their screens, all talking about the "missing daughter-in-law of the Hamilton family." But what they don't know is how much this is destroying me from the inside out. I haven't slept, I can barely eat, and my mind won't stop replaying that last horrible moment over and over.
I'm a mess, and it's not just because of the guilt that's slowly eating me alive. It's the not knowing. The uncertainty is killing me. Where is she? Is she safe? God, what if she's hurt? And it's my fault. I did this. I was the one who drove her away.
I haven't stopped searching for her since that night. My men are combing every inch of the city, every lead followed, every rumor checked. But so far, nothing. It's like she vanished into thin air. And it's driving me insane.
The house is eerily quiet without her. I can still see her, imagine her walking through these halls. She would always be here, waiting for me, even after everything I did. She would be there, her eyes downcast, her voice soft as she apologized for things that weren't even her fault. She'd tend to her wounds, hiding the pain, the bruises—my God, what was wrong with me? Why did I do this to her?
But now… now there's nothing. No trace of her anywhere. The servants won't even look me in the eye, but I know they're talking, whispering behind my back, wondering what happened to their beloved mistress. I can feel the judgment in their silence, and it only fuels the rage bubbling under my skin.
The butler, his expression as unreadable as always, tells me there's been no word. Richard was discharged from the hospital a few days ago. He's recovering well, they say, but every time I try to talk to him, I get nothing. He's closed off, shut down. And I can't help but wonder—does he know something I don't? Does he know where she is? Was he trying to save her from me?
I storm into my study, slamming the door behind me. The walls seem to close in around me, suffocating me with the weight of my own mistakes. I grab my phone, scrolling through the endless texts and emails, the unanswered calls. Everyone wants to know what's happening. The board is restless, my parents are pushing me for answers, but I have none to give.
My thumb hovers over Richard's number. He's barely spoken to me since he was released from the hospital. And when he does, there's a coldness in his voice, a distance that wasn't there before. I know he blames me. Hell, I blame myself.
But just as I'm about to call him, my phone rings. The screen lights up with my mother's name. I hesitate for a moment, my stomach churning with dread. I know what's coming. More questions, more demands. But I can't avoid it forever.
Taking a deep breath, I answer. "Mother."
Her voice is soft, but there's an edge to it, a hint of something I can't quite place. "Lucas, darling, any news?"
"Nothing yet," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. "We're still looking. Every resource we have is being used, but… she's gone, Mother. I don't know where she is."
There's a long pause on the other end of the line. I can hear her breathing, slow and steady. "Lucas," she finally says, her tone more serious now, "you need to focus. The family's reputation is on the line. If we don't find her soon—"
"I know," I snap, cutting her off. "I know what's at stake, Mother. But this is my wife we're talking about, not some business deal. I need to find her."
"Of course," she says, though there's a sharpness to her voice that makes me grit my teeth. "But you need to be prepared for the worst, Lucas. There are… whispers. People are starting to wonder. The police are getting involved, and if they find out—"
"They won't," I growl, anger flaring in my chest. "I won't let it get that far."
"And what about Richard?" she asks, her voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone. "He was there that night, wasn't he? Have you spoken to him?"
I swallow hard, my mind flashing back to the CCTV footage. Richard, carrying Peyton's lifeless body out of the house. He was trying to save her. Trying to do what I couldn't. "I've tried, but… he's not talking."
"Keep trying," she says, her voice firm. "We can't afford to let this get out of hand, Lucas. Do whatever it takes, but find her. And if you can't… well, you know what needs to be done."
The line goes dead, and I'm left staring at my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. I know what she means. If I can't find Peyton, if she's already gone, I need to make sure this doesn't blow back on us. The family comes first. Always.
But how can I think about that now? How can I even begin to focus on damage control when the woman I love is missing, possibly hurt—or worse? I slam my fist into the desk, the pain a welcome distraction from the chaos in my mind.
I can't let this go. I won't. Peyton is out there, somewhere, and I'm going to find her. I don't care what it takes. I don't care who I have to go through. I'll tear this city apart if I have to, but I will bring her home.
And when I do, I'll make things right. I'll fix this. I'll be the husband she deserves—the husband I should have been all along.
But first… I need to find her.