Hunter Mondiego sat in his office, staring at the reports laid out before him. It had been a week since Angel had vanished, leaving no trace behind. He had searched everywhere—South Island’s bustling city centers, its quiet suburbs, and even remote coastal towns. Every lead turned into a dead end. It was as if she had been swallowed by the earth itself.
His frustration grew each day. He had money, power, and resources, yet he couldn’t find the one person who mattered most to him. His mind replayed her words from long ago: If someone leaves without a trace, it means they don’t want to be found.
But he refused to accept that. Angel had to have a reason for disappearing, just like he had his own reasons for leaving in the past. The difference was that she hadn’t confronted him—hadn’t given him a chance to understand. She had simply vanished.
His phone buzzed. Kian’s voice came through the speaker. “We found something.”
Hunter sat up straight. “What is it?”
“The café where Angel was last seen—the one that was privately booked. We have a name.”
Hunter’s heartbeat quickened. “Who?”
“Robert Whitmore.”
The name meant nothing to him. “Who is he?”
“A middleman,” Kian replied. “Turns out, his job was only to book the café. He did it for an anonymous client.”
Hunter clenched his jaw. “Then I want to know who hired him.”
“Not that simple. The Whitmores are involved in underground activities—illegal trade, laundering, and smuggling—but they’re still walking freely because of their deep political connections. Their front business is a law firm, which makes them nearly untouchable.”
Hunter’s eyes darkened. “That won’t stop me.”
“I figured you’d say that,” Kian said. “I have people watching him. He’s careful, but he’ll slip up.”
Hunter exhaled sharply. “I’ll handle it myself.”
Kian sighed. “Just don’t do anything reckless. We’re dealing with powerful people.”
Hunter ended the call and leaned back, processing the information. Robert Whitmore was just a pawn—but a pawn still had a master. He needed to find out who was pulling the strings.
That night, Hunter stood outside an elite club known for attracting high-profile individuals, both legitimate and corrupt. Robert Whitmore frequented this place, and Hunter planned to confront him directly.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with cigar smoke and expensive cologne. Men in tailored suits discussed business over whiskey, their conversations laced with deception. Hunter moved through the crowd with purpose.
He spotted Robert Whitmore at the bar, sipping a drink, exuding the arrogance of someone untouchable. Hunter approached, his presence immediately drawing attention.
Whitmore glanced at him and smirked. “Well, if it isn’t the infamous Hunter Mondiego. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Hunter took the seat beside him. “You booked a café a week ago. Who hired you?”
Whitmore chuckled, swirling his glass. “Straight to the point. I admire that.”
“I’m not here for games.” Hunter’s voice was cold. “Tell me who it was.”
Whitmore took a slow sip of his drink. “Even if I knew, why would I tell you?”
Hunter’s patience wore thin. He leaned in. “Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure the world sees through your little law firm façade. You may have connections, but even you can’t cover up everything.”
Whitmore’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he composed himself. “Interesting threat.” He set his drink down. “But you’re going after a ghost. My job was just to make the booking. I never met the client.”
Hunter’s fingers tapped against the bar. He studied Whitmore’s expression, looking for any hint of deceit. “Then how did they contact you?”
Whitmore shrugged. “An encrypted message. Payment was wired in advance. That’s all I know.”
Hunter clenched his fists. He was so close, yet still so far. “Where was Angel taken after the meeting?”
Whitmore hesitated. “She left on her own. Walked out like she had somewhere to be.”
Hunter’s gut told him there was more. “And?”
Whitmore sighed. “Look, Mondiego, I don’t involve myself in other people’s business. But I do know one thing—whoever wanted that meeting with her wasn’t just some random nobody. If they had the resources to go through me, they’re powerful.”
Hunter’s mind raced. This wasn’t a simple disappearance. Someone had gone to great lengths to meet Angel, and now she was gone.
He stood. “You’ll let me know if you hear anything else.”
Whitmore smirked. “Sure. But be careful, Mondiego. You’re playing in dangerous waters.”
Hunter turned to leave, his resolve stronger than ever. If Angel had been taken against her will, he would find her. If she had left by choice, he needed to know why.
As he stepped into the night, he whispered to himself, “I won’t stop until I find you, Angel.”