Langford Mansion


    In the study, the tea sitting on the desk had long since gone cold.


    The old man paced back and forth, hands sped behind his back, wearing a path into the te floor.


    Finally, McNeil arrived. Normally striking, his face was drawn with exhaustion, deep shadows pooling beneath his eyes.


    He hadn''t slept properly in days.


    A porcin teacup ttered to the floor near McNeil''s feet, spilling tea everywhere.


    "Where is she? The news is all over the ce-saying Victoria''s dead. Is that really her in the morgue?"


    The old man''s reaction to the news wasn''t shock or grief, but barely contained rage.


    McNeil looked as tired as he felt, but there was no sadness in his expression. "No," he answered tly.


    He''d gone straight to the police to identify the body. Of course, it wasn''t Victoria.


    The Victoria he knew would never be so foolish-stranded in a snowstorm, car out of gas and broken down, just waiting passively for death.


    "So, where is she? I don''t care what it takes, you find her. Do you realize Victoria holds fifty percent of our family''s shares? If she vanishes and decides toe back swinging, you, me-everyone in the Langford family is finished."


    The old man had spent his life navigating the cutthroat world of business, priding himself on reading people. But Victoria had proven him wrong.


    Then again, a woman who''d lost the person she loved most-who knew what she might do?


    McNeil''s eyes burned red. The moment he''d heard the news, all he''d been able to think about was whether Victoria was still alive.


    Could fifty percent of the family''s shares ever be worth more than Victoria''s life?


    "And that girl, Violet-you should send her away as soon as possible. The Langford family''s done more than enough for her. I''ve yed along for your sake, helped save her life, put on a show for long enough. She''s alive now, and that''s enough.


    But if Victoria''s run off, let me tell you, we''ll all be out on the street."


    McNeil said nothing, quietly slipping out of the study.


    No sooner had he stepped into the hallway than his phone buzzed.


    It was Gwh, calling from her smartwatch.


    "Daddy, did you find Mommy? Is it true-did Mommy really die?"


    Gwh hadn''t seen her father in days. That morning, she''d woken up cheerful, eaten breakfast, and gone looking for Violet to chat. Instead, she''d found Violet sobbing in her room, skipping breakfast altogether.


    Gwh had thought maybe Mommy had dragged Daddy away again, and that was why Violet was upset. She''d been about to stand up for Violet when Violet told her the police had found her mommy''s body.


    Even though Gwh had grown close to Violettely, Victoria was her real mommy. She''d burst into tears right then and there, and nothing Violet did couldfort her.


    With Daddy unreachable these past few days, Gwh''s heart was heavy with worry, and she''d lost all interest in ying.


    Now, finally getting through to McNeil, the first thing out of her mouth-punctuated by sniffles-was about her mother.


    "Who told you that?" McNeil''s voice grew cold in an instant.


    "It was-" She started to say Violet, but heard the edge in her daddy''s tone. Afraid


    he''d get angry at Violet, she changed her answer.


    "It was thedies who look after Violet. That''s what they said."


    It was the first time Gwh had ever lied. Distracted and frustrated over not


    being able to find Victoria, McNeil didn''t notice anything amiss.


    "That''s not true. Your mom isn''t dead."


    Victoria wasn''t dead, but she was missing.


    The police wouldn''t file a missing person report until forty-eight hours had passed, and Victoria''s phone was still off. Thinking of his daughter, McNeil''s jumbled thoughts suddenly crystalized into an idea.


    "Daddy''s handling something very important right now. Can you try calling Mommy, and let me know if you reach her?"