Morning crept in quietly, soft and golden, spilling across the pale curtains and the empty desk where the invitations still lay untouched.
Clara entered Ava’s room just after eight.
She had a tablet tucked under one arm, her heels muffled by the thick carpet.
She expected to find Ava asleep, perhaps still in bed after the long day before.
But the bed was perfectly made, the sheets smooth and undisturbed.
Ava was gone.
Clara frowned slightly and moved closer to the desk.
That was when she saw it, the open envelope, the pen resting beside it, and the single card lying apart from the rest.
She picked it up carefully.
Lily Sinclair.
The name was written in soft, trembling ink.
Clara stared at it for a long moment, the air leaving her lungs without her realizing.
The rest of the cards were still blank, untouched, white and perfect, except for this one.
Her fingers tightened around it before she set it back down gently, as though it might break.
She exhaled slowly, her eyes drifting to the window.
For all her professionalism and composure, something about that single name left her unsettled.
She had known this wedding was rushed, complicated, a deal built on convenience and appearances.
But seeing that name in Ava’s handwriting so fragile, so human made it all suddenly feel painfully real.
she felt a rush of guilt hit her now.
from the little Maxwell had told her she was searching desperately for her sister that was what lead her to Damian Cross.
It wasn’t just a wedding anymore.
It was a woman trying to hold onto someone she had already lost.
she thought back to the morning where Ava’s eyes had een swollen, she was had been sure it was from crying, but didn’t think much and decided to focus on her job and then to the previous day at the photoshoot she could see how anxious she looked the entire time.
Clara swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh, Ava…”
She stood there for another moment, conflicted.
She wanted to help her somehow, but she also knew what kind of man Damian Cross was.
His world left no room for emotions, and anyone who tried to interfere always paid the price.
She gave her head s little shake.
she just had to do as she was told and nothing else.
Finally, she picked up her tablet again and turned toward the door.
Before leaving, she cast one last glance at the desk, at the lonely name written in ink, and whispered to herself, “I hope you find her.”
____________
Downstairs, the day had already begun.
Damian stood in his office, dressed in a sharp black suit, his tie perfectly knotted, his movements steady.
The calm look on his face was carefully measured, the kind that came from years of habit, a mask that never cracked.
Maxwell entered without knocking.
As always, his presence brought a certain unease to the room.
He carried a folder under his arm and a knowing look in his eyes.
“You asked to see me sir” Maxwell said, closing the door behind him.
Damian nodded once.
“Sit.”
Maxwell did and took a seat, the folder still in his hand.
Damian didn’t respond immediately.
He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.
“You said you had something for me.”
Maxwell slid the folder across the table.
“Another update on your missing girl.”
The words hit like a quiet blow, though Damian didn’t show it.
He reached for the folder and opened it.
Inside were a few grainy photos, timestamped and labeled.
“Where is this?” Damian asked, his voice low.
“Outskirts of the city. A woman matching her description was seen near an abandoned motel two nights ago. The witness wasn’t sure, but…” Maxwell leaned forward slightly.
“You might want to look for yourself.”
Damian stared at the photographs.
The image was blurry, There was a figure stepping into a dark car, but something about the posture, the way the head tilted slightly to the side, made his chest tighten a bit.
It looked like Lily.
His jaw flexed, but his tone remained calm.
“You’re sure this is recent?”
“Positive,” Maxwell said, watching him closely.
“But that’s not the interesting part.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small envelope.
Damian took it, unfolding it carefully.
Inside was a thin piece of paper, the handwriting rushed looked rushed.
[ Stop looking]
That was all it said.
A slow silence filled the room.
Damian’s expression didn’t change.
He folded the paper once more, sliding it back into the envelope.
Maxwell sighed faintly.
“Looks like someone doesn’t want us getting too close.”
Damian’s voice was low, steady and almost cold.
“Or it’s a warning.”
“do you think it’s a warning sir,” Maxwell said, standing,
“might as well be or maybe scott is playing a game with me.”
Damian’s eyes flicked up sharply.
“Continue searching until you find something or her.” He instructed and Maxwell nodded.
“okay sir, I just hope this doesn’t lead us to a dead end again”
Marcus gave a small nod and walked toward the door.
“I’ll keep you updated sir and congratulations on your wedding.”
The door closed behind him.
Damian sat still, the silence pressing down on him again.
His gaze fell to the envelope on his desk.
Stop looking.
He turned to the window His reflection stared back, calm, detached.
He thought of Ava then, of her voice, trembling but steady as she said, “I have no one to invite.” He thought of how small she had looked against the marble floor, how her eyes had burned even through exhaustion.
And for the briefest moment, he wondered what she was doing now, if she was still awake, still haunted, still thinking of her sister.
He shouldn’t care about that reminded himself.
he would help her find her sister and in return she would act lime his wife.
it was a win win situation for the both of them and he shouldn’t have to concern himself with if she was mad or sad.
it was none of his business, something he shouldn’t even wonder about.
All he needed was for her to be perfect for the wedding and he would do his part like he had promised her.