Page 78 of The CEO

“I’m looking for Eve,” I say without preamble. “When did you last hear from her?”

The women exchange glances. “I haven’t seen her at work all week. I thought she was sick?” Ingrid says cautiously. “Is something wrong?”

“That depends on your definition ofwrong,” I reply, my patience wearing thin. “Do you know where she is?”

“No.” Ingrid’s response is too quick, too firm.

I lean closer, lowering my voice. “I strongly suggest you reconsider that answer.”

“Are you threatening me?” Her eyes widen.

“I’m advising you that Eve’s safety is my primary concern,” I say carefully. “If you know anything about her whereabouts, now is the time to share that information.”

“She doesn’t know anything,” the other woman interjects. “None of us do. Eve just disappeared without a word to anyone.”

I study their faces, searching for signs of deception. Finding none, I straighten up, pulling a business card from my pocket. “If you hear from her, call this number immediately. Day or night.”

“Why would she contact me and not you?” Ingrid asks, her bravery admirable, albeit misplaced.

“Because she’s avoiding me,” I admit, the truth surprisingly easy to speak in my exhausted state. “And I need to find her.”

I leave without further explanation, returning to the car where Foster waits patiently. “Next location,” I instruct, ignoring his questioning glance.

We drive to Eve’s apartment building—my fourth visit this week. I know she hasn’t returned, since my surveillance team would have alerted me immediately, but I need to see for myself. I need to stand in her space, surrounded by her things, as if proximity to her possessions might somehow conjure her presence.

The lock yields easily to my key—a precaution I’d taken months ago. Inside, the apartment remains exactly as it was the last time I checked. No new disturbances, no signs of her return. I move through the small space methodically, examining every surface, opening every drawer, looking for any clue as to where she might have gone.

I note that her camera is missing. A few clothing items as well. She left deliberately, with some planning, taking only what she deemed essential. But where would she go? She has no family, and few close friends. Her financial resources are limited . . . unless she accessed the envelope I had Foster place in her safety deposit box weeks ago—a contingency I’d established when I first decided to bring her into my orbit. It contains cash, identification documents, and all the means for a fresh start if she ever needed to disappear.

I hadn’t anticipated that she might use those resources to disappear from me.

By dawn, I’ve exhausted all immediate leads. I direct Foster to take me back to Eden, retreating to my greenhouse—the only place where I find any measure of peace anymore. Among my plants, with their delicate needs and silent resilience, I can almost think clearly again.

I move among the plants, checking soil moisture, examining new growth, whispering encouragement to those struggling to thrive. They respond to my care in ways that are predictable, measurable, controlled—everything my relationship with Eve is not.

One of the smaller ghost orchids has bloomed overnight, its ethereal white flowers dangling like spectral dancers in the humid air. I study the delicate blossoms, struck by their beauty and their brief existence. They will last only days before withering, their fleeting presence all the more precious for their impermanence.

Like Eve in my life.

The thought lands with unexpected force, staggering me. I sink onto a stone bench, confronting a truth I’ve been avoiding since she walked out of the underground chamber.

I may never see her again. She may choose to disappear completely, using the resources I provided to create a new life far from Chicago—far from me. The irony is bitter and perfect: that I would give her the means to escape the very trap I had so carefully set.

And if she does? If she vanishes from my life as completely as she has this past week?

The answer comes with startling clarity: I would let her go. Not because it’s strategic or calculated, but because her happiness matters more to me than my own plans. Her freedom matters more than The Shadows. Her well-being matters more than my empire.

She matters more than all of it.

The realization is terrifying and liberating all at once. For twenty years, The Shadows has been my purpose, my identity, my reason for existence. I’ve sacrificed everything for this organization—my conscience, my humanity, and any chance at a normal life.

Now, I would sacrifice The Shadows itself for Eve Thorne.

The thought should horrify me. It should trigger every survival instinct, every protective mechanism I’ve built around my power. Instead, it feels like truth—perhaps the first honest truth I’ve acknowledged in decades.

I close my eyes, surrounded by my plants, and surrender to a reality I can no longer deny: that my careful plans, my meticulous control, and my entire empire mean nothing without her.

Chapter15

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