The top floor of Vane International was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock that had cost more than Elara's childhood home. Silas Vane stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his reflection ghostly against the backdrop of the London lights.
His mind was a storm. He couldn't shake the image of the boy's eyes. They weren't just grey; they were his grey. The same defiant tilt of the chin. The same way the boy stood, as if he already owned the ground beneath his feet.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Enter," Silas commanded, his voice vibrating with a cold authority.
A man in a nondescript grey suit stepped into the office. This was Marcus, a former intelligence officer who now served as Silas's private shadow. Marcus didn't ask questions; he only delivered truths.
"You summoned me, sir?"
Silas didn't turn around. "Elara Vance. I want everything."
"She is a lead architect at Aria Design, sir. Her portfolio is—"
"I don't care about her buildings," Silas interrupted, finally turning. His eyes were predatory. "I want her history. Five years ago, she disappeared from this city. I want to know where she went, who she spoke to, and most importantly..." He paused, the words feeling heavy in his throat. "I want the birth certificate of the boy she was carrying today."
Marcus nodded, his pen scratching against a notepad. "And the father, sir?"
"Find him," Silas hissed. "If there is a man out there who laid a finger on her, I want his name. I want his bank records. I want to know if he's still in the picture."
"There is a complication, Mr. Vane," Marcus said, looking up. "I did a preliminary sweep when she signed the contract. Her records from five years ago are... scrubbed. It's as if she fell off the face of the earth the day after the Golden Masquerade gala."
Silas's heart hammered against his ribs. The Gala. The night he had sought comfort in the arms of a nameless girl because the weight of the Vane empire was crushing him. He had never forgotten the way she smelled of cheap soap and expensive dreams.
"Scrubbed?" Silas stepped closer, his presence looming over Marcus. "No one disappears unless they are hiding a monster, Marcus. Or a treasure."
"I'll dig deeper, sir. But if she's using the Aria Firm's legal protection, it might take time to get the DNA records."
"Then take the time," Silas growled. "But do not let her leave the country. If she tries to book a flight for herself or that boy, I want her grounded. She thinks she can walk into my boardroom, look me in the eye with my own reflection, and walk away?"
He picked up a glass of bourbon from his desk and drained it in one go.
"She's designing my tower," Silas whispered to the empty room after Marcus left. "But she's living in my world now. And in my world, there are no secrets."
Meanwhile: Elara's Apartment
Elara sat on the floor of her living room, her back against the door. She was shaking.
She looked at Leo, who was blissfully asleep on the sofa, his sketchbook tucked under his arm. On the page he had been drawing, there was a tall man standing next to a small boy.
She knew Silas wouldn't stop. He was a man who got what he wanted, whether it was a plot of land or a person's soul.
Her phone buzzed. It was an encrypted message from an old friend in the medical records office.
"Elara, someone is pinging the hospital database for Leo's birth records. They are using a high-level corporate bypass. It's Vane's people. What do you want me to do?"
Elara's grip tightened on the phone until her knuckles turned white.
"The war has started," she whispered to the dark room.