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I take the stairs two at a time, my Italian leather shoes clicking sharply against the marble floors. At the top, I stride down the hallway towards Clara's suite. Even just seeing her sleeping form will provide some small measure of comfort.
When I enter the bedroom, it appears untouched. The massive four-poster bed is neatly made, the brocade duvet smooth. But as I draw closer, I notice her nightgown folded at the foot of the bed, her toiletries lined up neatly on the vanity.
My heart begins to hammer harder. Why would she leave so perfectly, so deliberately, without a word? I check the walk-in closet, scanning for gaps among her rows of designer dresses and shoes. Everything she purchased since she arrived is still here. But everything she brought with her, including her backpack, are gone.
Apprehension prickles down my spine. Something isn't right. I stride back through the suite and check the library. The normally untidy stack of her favorite books are returned to their shelves. It’s as if she tidied up after herself before vanishing.
Panic rises in my chest, tightening like a vice. Where could she have gone in the middle of the night without telling me? Why leave no trace at all? My mind spirals with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.
In a burst of frustration, I slam my fist into the paneled wall, barely noticing the pain. All I can focus on is the hollow ache blooming inside me. Clara is gone without a trace.
"Where is she?" My voice cracks as I bellow down the empty hallway. Within moments, my brothers come running, alarmed by my tone.
"Where is Clara?" I ask again, after I'm met with only blank stares.
Pietro scrolls through security footage on his phone, scanning for clues.
"Any sign of her on the cameras?" I demand. He shakes his head grimly, but continues to scroll.
My pulse is racing, my thoughts chaotic. But I need to hold it together and think clearly. Clara is meticulous - she must have had a reason for disappearing like this. I pray we can find some answers before it's too late.
Panic rises in my chest, tightening like a vice around my lungs. I can't breathe, can't think. Clara is missing. Bile burns acidic in my throat as my mind spirals with the possibilities.
"It looks like she slipped out the back entrance a few hours ago," Pietro reports, his brow furrowed.
"Dante!" My voice slices through the tense silence like a knife. Moments later, Dante materializes, his icy blue eyes flashing with grim understanding. "Find her. Now. Whatever it takes, wherever she is, bring her back."
Dante gives one sharp nod before disappearing like a shadow to carry out my orders, barking commands into his phone. The others stand frozen in place, the graveness of the situation settling over us.
"Fan out," I bark, jolting back to the present. "Talk to our people on the streets. Someone must have seen or heard something." Lorenzo and Pietro immediately pull out their phones, dialing contacts from our network of eyes and ears across the city. Rafael disappears into another part of the mansion, his face set in hard lines.
Only Giovanni remains, his gentle eyes clouded with worry and sorrow as he searches my face.
"We'll find her, Antonio," he vows, his voice steady with determination. "She couldn't have gone far."
I nod curtly, not trusting my voice to remain steady. Turning swiftly, I escape back up the staircase towards Clara's suite, desperate for some clue about where she might have gone. Why would she slip away like a thief in the night without a word? It makes no sense.
Her subtle floral scent still lingers in the air, haunting and taunting me. I tear through the space like a madman, flinging open drawers and doors, upending every inch of the lavish room. But there are no signs of a struggle, no hint or clue that might indicate where she went. Or was taken, my mind whispers traitorously. It’s as if she was never here at all.
Fury wells up inside me, threatening to spill over. With a guttural yell, I grab the lamp from the bedside table and hurl it with all my strength against the far wall. It shatters spectacularly on impact, shards of glass and metal raining down along with the broken pieces of my heart. What if I've lost her for good? What if it's my fault?
A tentative knock at the door jolts me back to the present. I take a deep, steadying breath and stand up straight, smoothing my suit jacket and piecing my stoic mask back together.
"Come in," I call out, forcing my voice to steady.
The door opens and Lorenzo steps inside, his tanned face lined with worry. His gleaming amber eyes, so like my own, search my face knowingly. "Any sign of where she went?"
I shake my head, not trusting my voice to remain even.
"We'll get her back, Antonio," Lorenzo vows, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder and gripping firmly. "She couldn't have gone far. We'll scour the city if we have to."
I meet my brother's blazing eyes, so like my own, and see the truth of his words. My family may fight and feud, but when it truly matters, we stand as one.
I clasp his hand tightly in return. "I know," I rasp.
Hurried footsteps on the marble stairs draw our attention. Moments later, Rafael appears in the doorway.
"We've found something. Security footage from the cafe down the block," he announces.
