Sabrina had vanished.
For twenty-four hours, there was no sign of her. No calls. No messages. Nothing.
Monica was out of her mind with worry. She had tried every contact she had, with no luck.
The last place anyone had seen Sabrina was at the Maxon Group.
It was the only lead she had. So she drove straight there.
She stormed into the lobby and ignored the receptionist's protests, making a beeline for the executive floor. Without knocking, she shoved open the door to the CEO's office.
Cedric looked up from a tense meeting with his legal team, his expression hardening.
"Mr. Strickland," Monica said, breathless. "Where's Sabrina? What did you do to her?!"
Cedric blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Don't pretend you don't know. You said something awful to her, didn't you? And now she's gone!"
"I haven't seen her since that morning," he said calmly, though a flicker of unease passed through his eyes.
Monica softened slightly. "Please. She's not someone who can handle this kind of stress. If you know anything, if you even suspect something-tell me."
Cedric stared at her, reading the genuine panic on her face.
"I don't know where she is," he said at last. "But I'll find out."
Monica handed him her card. "If you hear anything, call me immediately."
With that, she turned and left.
Cedric looked down at the card. Monica Simpson. Neurology.
His brows furrowed. Why was Sabrina close with a neurologist?
That question quickly faded as a gnawing sense of dread settled in his chest.
He couldn't focus. Couldn't sit still.
He saw her pale face in his mind again and again-heard her voice, trembling with hope.
He stood up abruptly and grabbed his coat.
Downstairs, he stormed into the café near the building and demanded to see the security footage.
"Sir, I'm afraid we can't release footage without-"
"Then consider your café's lease terminated."
The manager paled. "Right this way, Mr. Strickland!"
The footage showed it all.
Sabrina, sitting alone. A man approached her. They talked. And then she left with him.
Cedric's blood ran cold.
He pulled out his phone. "Trace the license plate. Find out who that man is, where they went. I want answers ASAP."
He couldn't sit still. He paced the office like a caged beast, heart pounding.
He told himself this was just basic human decency.
That he'd do this for anyone.
But deep down, he knew that was a lie.
An hour later, a lead came in.
A warehouse. Abandoned. Outskirts of the city.
He didn't wait.
He drove like hell.
*****
At the same time-
Sabrina felt like she was on the verge of collapse.
She stumbled along a deserted stretch of road, arms clutched around her stomach that throbbed with pain. Sweat, cold and sticky, soaked through her clothes and chilled her skin with every gust of wind.
It'd been a whole day since she last ate. Her legs barely moved under her, and her head spun. But she couldn't afford to give up-not after clawing her way out of that awful warehouse. She had to keep walking, no matter what.
She never imagined the famous Pama Conglomerate would have someone this scummy under their name.
Fueled by anger, she didn't see the rock on the ground. Her foot caught, and bam-she went crashing to the hard concrete, scraping her arms and hands. The pain made her eyes well up.
She was exhausted. Lying there sounded kinda great...
Screech!
The sudden squeal of brakes tore through the silence.
"Sabrina!"
The screech of tires. A voice-low, panicked, familiar.
She flinched, curling into herself. "No... please... don't take me back..."
But the arms that scooped her up were warm.
Strong.
Safe.
Cedric.
He carried her like she weighed nothing, his heart racing at how cold and light she felt. Her skin was clammy. Her lips pale.
He rushed her into the car and cranked the heater.
As warmth returned to her body, her eyes fluttered open.
And when she saw him-really saw him-she broke.
The tears came fast and hard. Loud, ugly sobs tore from her chest.
That guy had dragged her to some abandoned warehouse and threatened her, saying if she didn't agree to work with the Pama Conglomerate and hand over Twinkle, he'd chop off her fingers - make sure she could never do research again.
Back then she'd crossed her legs, too terrified inside to breathe properly, but still forced herself to look calm and cocky. "Heh, I work with my brain, not my hands," she'd sneered. "Cut off my fingers all you want, I've still got thousands of formulas in my head ready to bury you."
He was so mad he turned pale on the spot.
Luckily, he chickened out in the end. Didn't lay a hand on her. Just locked her in the warehouse, came by once - probably to see if she'd offed herself - then bailed again.
Cedric had always been hopeless whenever she cried. The moment he saw those tears flooding her cheeks, his brain short-circuited. He reacted on instinct, fumbling for tissues, then awkwardly reaching forward to wipe her face...
But as soon as his hand got close, Sabrina - looking an absolute mess from crying - lunged into his arms without warning, clinging tightly around his waist like she never planned on letting go. So tight he could barely breathe.
Oddly enough, his first thought wasn't to push her off. In fact, he didn't mind if she held on even tighter.
Her wailing got louder, clearly a cover-up for her clinginess. And when he'd gone for tissues like a clueless deer, she almost choked on her rage.
Seriously, Cedric? Did he not realize a crying person doesn't want napkins - they need a damn hug!
He lowered the tissue in his hand, hesitated a moment, then patted her back gently, a bit stiff but trying.
Sabrina had thought he might shove her away. But no - he was actually comforting her?
See, she knew him so well. Classic cold-outside-warm-inside.
She even rubbed her cheek against his chest a little on purpose.
Man, was he built. Felt like pressed iron under that shirt. She was dying to find out if he had visible abs underneath...
"I've got a meeting soon, you better not get snot on my suit," he muttered.
She sniffled. "Don't worry. My snot isn't worthy."
He handed her a tissue without looking. "Buckle up. We're going to the hospital. After that, the police. You're reporting everything."
She slowly fastened her seatbelt. "You sound like a cop."
"I just don't want you getting into trouble again."
She didn't respond. After a few seconds, she asked quietly, "Did you really think I was trying to ruin your suit back there?"
He glanced at her. "Weren't you?"
"No," she whispered. "I just... wanted to hug you."
He didn't answer.
The car was silent.
Then she looked at him again, voice soft, as if pressing on a bruise.
"Why did you come for me?"
He didn't reply.
She smiled bitterly. "I thought you stopped caring whether I lived or died."
