When Valerie returned to their table, Victor was the only one there.
The music had grown louder, guests drifting toward the dance floor or gathering in small circles across the hall, and it was only because their table sat tucked into the corner.
"Vicky, where is Roman?"
Victor swirled the drink in his glass before glancing at her. "Roman? I thought his name was Roe."
Her fingers curled slowly at her sides. "This isn't funny. Where is my son?"
"He ran off somewhere. Marco went after him." He took a casual sip. "He's overly sensitive. Stormed off over a simple comment."
The strange unease crept down her spine.
"Ran off?" Her voice lowered, tight with restraint. "Why would he run off? What did you say to him?"
Victor met her gaze without flinching. "I corrected him about his name. That's all."
Anxiety flooded her so suddenly it made her dizzy. Ever since the incident years ago—when her son had almost been lost in a crowd for a single, terrifying minute—she had never let him out of her sight.
"You... you left him alone?" Her voice trembled despite her effort to steady it.
"He wasn't going to vanish," Victor replied coolly. "It's a five-star hotel."
Her heart began pounding so violently it hurt.
"You...!" She gritted her teeth, "How could you...!"
She did not waste another second arguing. She turned and moved quickly through the hall, scanning every table, every corridor, every passing face. Her eyes searched for a small navy suit, for green eyes bright with stubborn tears.
"Marc!" she called when she spotted him near the entrance. "Have you found him?"
Marco's expression shifted the moment he saw her. "Not yet. I checked the restrooms and the lounge area."
The last bit of color drained from her face.
Marco stepped closer, gripping her shoulders gently. "Vivi, listen to me. We'll find him, maybe be left the floor. Let's go to security."
She nodded, unable to trust her voice.
They hurried down the corridor toward the security office, her mind racing with every possible nightmare she had spent years suppressing. She should never have left him.
Marco spoke to the staff while she stood beside him, barely hearing the explanation as footage from the cameras began appearing on the monitor.
Her hands trembled as she leaned forward. The ballroom entrance came into view. Guests moved in and out of frame.
Then she saw him. Little Roe. His head lowered as he wiped his face with his sleeve. Her breath caught painfully in her throat.
"Follow that camera," Marco said.
The footage switched angles, tracking him through the corridor, past the grand staircase, toward the lobby. Each step he took felt like a blade sliding under her ribs.
The screen changed again. She gasped in disbelief, he was going out of the hotel through the revolving doors, looking panicked as if searching for her.
He pushed through them and stepped onto the hotel driveway, bright headlights flashing past beyond the gates.
"My God!" Valerie felt her heart lurch so violently it was as if it had torn free from her chest.
...
Three hours had passed.
The quiet grand lobby had long fallen quiet, yet Valerie still sat on the velvet sofa near the entrance, unmoving. Every time the glass doors revolved, she flinched.
Police cars lined the driveway outside, their red and blue lights flashing in endless rotation. Officers moved in and out, radios crackling, shoes striking the stone in hurried rhythm. They had searched the surrounding streets, checked nearby shops, questioned staff, and reviewed the cameras repeatedly.
There was still no news of Roe.
Valerie's fingers were clenched so tightly in her dress that her knuckles had gone pale. Tears streamed down her face without pause.
Marco stood a short distance away, speaking with one of the officers in low, urgent tones. His usually warm expression had hardened, jaw tight, eyes strained with restrained panic. Every few moments, he glanced back at her as if to make sure she was still there, as if she might vanish too.
Behind him, Victor shouted on his phone to his connections.
The revolving doors opened again, and Victor stepped inside.
For the first time that night, he did not look composed. His tie was loosened, his hair slightly disheveled, his phone still in his hand from yet another call. He walked toward her slowly.
Without a word, he removed his suit jacket and draped it over her trembling shoulders.
Valerie jerked as though burned.
The jacket slid to the floor.
"Stay the fuck away from me!"
Her voice cracked through the lobby, raw and shaking.
Victor froze.
The curse hung in the air between them.
He had never heard her swear. Not once. Not in anger, not in frustration. Valerie had always been the soft one out of the two.
Now she was shaking in rage with her face streaked with tears.
"You don't get to touch me," she said, pushing him hard in the chest. He stumbled back a step, more from shock than force. "You don't get to stand near me."
"Vivi—"
"Don't!" Her voice broke. "Don't say my name! It's your fault!"
Several officers glanced over but quickly looked away.
"Yes, it is." Victor stared at her, stunned. "And we are doing everything we can to solve-"
"You left him alone." Each word trembled. "You made him cry, measuring dicks!"
Her hands were shaking violently now.
"He's four years old, Victor." Her voice dropped. "Four!"
Victor's throat tightened. "I didn't think—"
"That's the problem!" she screamed. "You didn't think!"
Her breathing grew uneven, chest rising too fast. "God knows where he is! God knows if someone... someone took him."
Victor's face drained of color.
Her tears spilled uncontrollably. "I trusted you for 10 minutes."
Her voice shattered on the last word.
Marco approached quickly when he saw her spiraling, placing himself subtly between them. "Vivi," he said gently, gripping her shoulders. "The police are expanding the search radius. They're checking traffic cameras two blocks down. We will find him."
She clutched Marco's sleeve like it was the only solid thing left in the world.
Victor bent down slowly and picked up his fallen jacket, but he did not try to put it back on her. For the first time, regret crept visibly into his expression.
Valerie covered her face with both hands. Somewhere out there, her little boy was alone and probably afraid.
And for the first time in years, she felt suffocating terror clawing its way back into her chest.
There was no use... It's already been 6 hours...
Each passing second was critical. Who knows what her boy was going through now? Just the thought of it was suffocating her when a face entered her mind.
Azrael Hawthorne!