The house was unusually quiet, an eerie stillness that prickled Isla’s senses. Amara’s cheerful giggles usually filled the mornings, but today, there was only silence. Isla descended the stairs, her brow furrowed in concern.
“Amara?” she called out, her voice echoing through the grand hall.
There was no response. She quickened her pace, heading toward the nursery, her heartbeat accelerating with every step.
Inside the nursery, the crib was empty. Amara’s favorite stuffed animal, a floppy-eared bunny, lay discarded on the floor. Panic surged through Isla.
“Dante!” she yelled, her voice breaking.
Dante appeared within moments, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm as he registered her frantic state. “What’s wrong?”
“Amara,” Isla choked out, clutching the side of the crib for support. “She’s not here.”
Dante’s eyes darkened, and he immediately turned toward the intercom system. Pressing the button, his voice boomed through the house. “Everyone report to the main hall now!”
—
Within minutes, the mansion’s staff had gathered, their faces a mix of worry and confusion. Dante stood before them, his presence commanding.
“Amara is missing,” he stated, his tone sharp. “When was the last time anyone saw her?”
A young maid stepped forward hesitantly. “She was in the garden this morning, playing with her bunny. I was watching her, but I stepped away for a moment to fetch her juice. When I came back, she was gone.”
Dante’s jaw clenched, and Isla felt her knees weaken. “Gone? Did you see anyone else around?”
The maid shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “No, sir. It was just us. I swear, I only looked away for a second.”
Isla pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. Dante turned to his head of security.
“Search the entire estate,” he ordered. “Every room, every corner. Lock the gates and check the cameras. No one leaves until we find her.”
The guards dispersed immediately, and Dante placed a reassuring hand on Isla’s shoulder.
“We’ll find her,” he said firmly, though his eyes betrayed his own fear.
—
Hours passed, and the search yielded no results. Isla felt as though she were living a nightmare. She paced the living room, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios.
Dante returned from the security room, his expression grim. “The cameras show nothing,” he said. “It’s like she vanished into thin air.”
“How is that possible?” Isla demanded, her voice trembling. “This house is supposed to be impenetrable!”
Dante didn’t respond, his silence speaking volumes. Isla’s hands balled into fists.
“This is Vincent,” she said suddenly, her voice filled with conviction.
Dante’s eyes snapped to hers. “What?”
“It has to be him,” Isla insisted. “He’s the only one who would do something like this.”
Dante hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I wouldn’t put it past him, but we need proof.”
Isla grabbed his arm, her desperation palpable. “Dante, he doesn’t need proof! He threatened us at the party, and now Amara is gone. What more do you need?”
Dante pulled her into his arms, his voice low and steady. “I need you to stay calm, Isla. Panicking won’t help Amara. I’ll handle Vincent.”
—
By evening, the tension in the mansion was unbearable. Isla sat by the fireplace, clutching Amara’s stuffed bunny, her mind plagued by guilt and fear. Dante had left to confront Vincent, and the silence in the house was deafening.
She thought back to the morning, replaying every detail. Could she have missed something? Was there a clue they’d overlooked?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Isla looked up to see Dante entering the room, his expression unreadable.
“Did you find her?” she asked, hope and dread warring in her voice.
Dante shook his head, his hands clenched into fists. “Vincent denies any involvement.”
“Of course he does,” Isla snapped, rising to her feet. “Do you believe him?”
Dante hesitated, and Isla felt her anger flare.
“Dante, this is our daughter!” she cried. “How can you even entertain the idea that he’s innocent?”
“I’m not,” Dante said sharply. “But we can’t accuse him without proof. If we make the wrong move, we risk losing any chance of finding her.”
Isla turned away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Dante approached her, his hands gentle on her arms.
“We’ll find her, Isla,” he said softly. “I promise.”
—
Night fell, and the mansion was cloaked in darkness. Isla sat in the nursery, the weight of the day pressing down on her. She stared at the empty crib, tears streaming down her face.
“Where are you, baby?” she whispered, clutching the bunny tighter.
A sudden noise outside the window caught her attention. Isla froze, her heart pounding. She stood and approached the window cautiously, peering into the garden below.
There was movement-a shadow flitting across the lawn. Isla’s breath caught.
“Dante!” she screamed, running from the room.
Dante met her in the hallway, his gun already in hand. “What is it?”
“Someone’s in the garden,” Isla said, her voice trembling.
Without a word, Dante took her hand and led her downstairs. The guards had already been alerted, and they followed Dante into the garden, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.
Isla stayed close to Dante, her eyes scanning the shadows.
“Over here!” a guard called out, his voice urgent.
Dante and Isla rushed toward the sound. In the corner of the garden, hidden beneath a large oak tree, was Amara. She was curled up on the ground, her face tear-streaked but otherwise unharmed.
“Amara!” Isla cried, dropping to her knees and scooping her daughter into her arms.
Amara clung to her, sobbing. “Mommy!”
Dante knelt beside them, his hands trembling as he touched his daughter’s face. “Are you okay, sweetheart? Did someone hurt you?”
Amara shook her head, her voice shaky. “I got scared. I was playing hide-and-seek with Vincent, but he left me here.”
Dante’s expression darkened, his eyes flashing with fury. “Vincent did this?”
Amara nodded, burying her face in Isla’s shoulder.
Isla held her daughter tightly, her own anger rising. “That man is a monster,” she said through gritted teeth.
Dante stood, his entire body radiating tension. “I’ll deal with him.”
“No,” Isla said firmly, looking up at him. “We’ll deal with him. Together.”
Dante met her gaze, his expression softening slightly. He nodded, reaching out to touch her cheek.
“Together,” he agreed.
—
As they carried Amara back into the house, Isla felt a renewed sense of determination. Vincent had crossed a line, and she wouldn’t rest until he paid for what he’d done.
For now, though, all that mattered was that Amara was safe. Isla held her daughter close, silently vowing never to let her out of her sight again.
Dante’s hand rested on Isla’s back as they climbed the stairs, a silent gesture of reassurance. Though the battle was far from over, Isla knew they would face it together-and this time, Vincent wouldn’t win.