The penthouse was dead silent when Franklin unlocked the front door late that night.He ripped off his tie, his eyes scanning the living room.
The shattered crystal from last night had been swept away by the staff, leaving the space looking immaculate.But the deep, jagged scratches on the glass coffee table remained, a glaring reminder of Cadence's violent departure.
Driven by a restless, gnawing anxiety, Franklin walked toward the master bedroom.
He pushed the door open.A suffocating emptiness immediately crushed his lungs.
He turned on the lights in the massive walk-in closet.
His heart dropped straight into his stomach.
Row after row of expensive, pastel-colored haute couture hung perfectly in place.Every single garment he had ever bought to shape her into the ideal Mueller wife was still there.
He pulled open the velvet-lined jewelry drawers.Millions of dollars in diamonds and pearls sat untouched.
Franklin walked into the bathroom.
The expensive perfumes were still on the shelf.The only things missing were her cheap, drugstore face wash and the thick medical textbooks she used to read before bed.
She had stripped her presence from his life like a surgeon cutting out a tumor.She didn't take a single dime of his money.
Franklin stared at the dry bathtub.The phantom sound of her choking gasps echoed in his ears again.
A massive wave of guilt and frustration exploded in his chest.
He pulled his arm back and drove his fist straight into the bathroom mirror.
The glass spider-webbed outward with a sharp crack.Blood welled up across his split knuckles, but the physical pain barely registered over the ringing in his head.
He walked back out to the living room and dropped onto the sofa.He picked up the crumpled divorce petition, his eyes burning holes into her sharp, elegant signature.
His phone buzzed against the glass table.
The caller ID flashed: Eleonora Mueller.
Franklin took a deep breath, forcing the violent storm in his eyes to settle before answering.
"Grandmother," he said, his voice steady.
"The grand banquet for my eightieth birthday is this weekend," the matriarch of the Mueller family stated, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Every old-money family in New York will be there. You will arrive on time, and Cadence will be on your arm."
Franklin's grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.
"Cadence is... indisposed at the moment," he tried to deflect.
"I don't care," Eleonora cut him off coldly. "Do not let that little actress Isabelle ruin this family's reputation. The only Mrs. Mueller is Cadence."
The line went dead.
Franklin tossed the phone onto the cushion.The pressure in his chest was becoming unbearable.He needed to find Cadence.
Franklin dialed Hilary's number.
"Where is she?" Franklin demanded, his voice thick with aggression.
"Sir," Hilary stammered, her voice shaking. "We can't find her. The moment she left the building, every security camera on her route was wiped clean by a top-tier hacker. It's like she vanished into thin air."
Franklin froze.
A top-tier hacker?
His brows pulled together in deep confusion.How could a sheltered, new-money medical heiress possess the kind of counter-surveillance power needed to blind the Mueller intelligence network?
He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring down at the glittering grid of Manhattan.His eyes narrowed, turning dark and incredibly dangerous.
He realized he hadn't just lost a submissive wife.He had let a completely unknown predator out of its cage.
Franklin turned around and looked at the coffee table.The heavy sapphire engagement ring sat there, mocking his absolute loss of control.
Franklin walked over and snatched the ring up.He squeezed it in his fist, the sharp prongs biting into his raw skin, bringing a sharp sting of clarity.
"Wherever you're hiding," Franklin whispered to the empty room, "I will drag you out."
