Missing
RONNY’S POV
The screen was starting to blur. I’d been at it for hours—rewinding, pausing, zooming in, watching every single frame like my life depended on it.
Because in a way, it did.
Liliana’s life did.
Every piece of footage, every pixelated shadow, every subtle shift in body language—it all led me back to one name. Lily.
Her stepsister.
But I knew better than to think she had done this alone. That girl wasn’t capable of orchestrating something so elaborate by herself. No—she had help. Either from her mother, who always looked at Liliana with thinly veiled resentment, or someone else lurking behind the curtains.
My eyes burned, and I rubbed them hard, forcing myself to sit back. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, reminding me just how long I’d been buried in this office.
It hit me then—Liliana.
Normally, by now, she would have found some excuse to barge in here. Pretend she needed to ask me a silly question, flop into my lap, tease me until I forgot what I was doing. She hated when I spent too long in front of the laptop. She hated when my attention wasn’t on her.
But… nothing.
The house was quiet.
A strange unease twisted in my gut.
I pushed away from the desk, my chair scraping against the floor, and stood. The moment I stepped out of the office, I realized how heavy the silence really was. No footsteps, no humming, no sound of her voice echoing up the stairs.
I climbed, two steps at a time, my pulse rising with each one.
“Liliana?” I called, my voice carrying down the hallway.
No answer.
I reached our bedroom, pushed the door open. Empty. The bed still perfectly made. The faintest trace of her perfume lingered in the air, but she wasn’t there.
I tried again, louder this time. “Liliana!”
Still nothing.
A prickling heat spread across my chest. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed her.
The line rang once. Twice. Then cut off.
I frowned and tried again. Same thing. Straight to voicemail.
“What the hell,” I muttered, pacing across the room.
By the third call, my hand was shaking.
I stormed back downstairs, my heart pounding harder now. Maria was in the kitchen, wiping down the counters. She looked up the second I stepped inside, her brows knitting at the look on my face.
“Sir?”
“Where’s Liliana?” I demanded.
Maria blinked, confused. “I… saw her leave, sir. Earlier. She got into her car.”
I froze. “What?”
She nodded. “Yes, she didn’t say anything. I thought maybe you knew.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The words echoed in my head, dull and sharp all at once. She left. She left without telling me.
I yanked my phone out again, dialing once more. Still nothing. The knot in my chest pulled tighter, sharp edges cutting through me.
Pull yourself together, Ronny. Think.
I opened my tracking app—the one I swore I’d never actually need but kept anyway, because she had a talent for throwing herself into trouble.
Her last location popped up on the map.
The hospital.
My blood turned to ice.
“What the hell were you doing at the hospital, baby girl?” I muttered, already racing back toward the stairs.
I threw on a jacket, snatched my keys, and headed for the garage. The car roared to life, and I sped out through the gates, my grip white-knuckled on the steering wheel.
This woman was going to give me a goddamn heart attack.
The whole drive, my mind spun with possibilities. Was she sick? Hurt? Had she been hiding something from me? The memory of her pale face at breakfast, the sound of her throwing up at the sink—my chest squeezed so hard I could barely breathe.
By the time I reached the hospital, my heart was slamming against my ribs like it wanted out. I barely parked before I was out of the car, striding through the sliding glass doors.
The smell of antiseptic hit me like a wall. Too bright, too white. I hated it.
At the reception desk, I slammed my palms down. “Liliana Arthur. She came here today. Where is she?”
The nurse startled, wide-eyed, then quickly checked her computer. “Yes, sir, one moment. I’ll get the doctor who saw her.”
Every second she made me wait was another second I wanted to break something.
Finally, a woman in her forties approached. Kind eyes, calm face—the kind of person you’d trust to deliver bad news gently. But I didn’t want gentle. I wanted answers.
“I’m Doctor Evans,” she said softly. “You must be—?”
“Her boyfriend,” I cut in. My voice came out sharper than I intended. “I can’t reach her. She was here earlier. Where is she?”
The doctor tilted her head, sympathy flickering across her face. “She was here, yes. She seemed… very shocked when I showed her the results.”
My heart lurched. “What results?”
Doctor Evans hesitated, then smiled slightly. “She’s pregnant.”
The words slammed into me like a truck.
Pregnant.
For a second, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. The world narrowed to that single word, echoing inside me.
Pregnant.
Liliana. My Liliana. Carrying my child.
I stumbled back a step, my hand dragging through my hair. My chest was a battlefield—joy and terror colliding so violently it almost knocked me off my feet.
I was going to be a father.
But where the hell was she?
“Where is she now?” I rasped, forcing my voice through the knot in my throat.
The doctor frowned. “She left, sir. Right after receiving the results.”
Left.
I looked at the doctor like she’d grown two heads. “She left?”
“Yes,” she said carefully. “I assumed she wanted some time to process. It’s not unusual. These things can be overwhelming.”
My heart thundered, panic clawing higher. She was pregnant. My girl was carrying my baby—and she was out there, alone, unreachable.
No. Not possible. Not safe.
“Do you have security cameras in the lot?” I demanded.
The doctor blinked but nodded. “Yes, of course. If you’d like to check with our security team—”
“I would.” My voice was sharp enough to slice steel.
Minutes later, I was in the security room, the smell of burnt coffee thick in the air. A guard clicked through footage, his fingers clumsy on the keyboard.
“There,” I barked, pointing at the screen.
The feed showed Liliana walking out of the hospital, paper in hand, her face pale but lit with something—hope, maybe. She reached her car, got inside.
Then… nothing.
The windows were tinted. Too dark to see inside.
The car pulled away from the lot.
I leaned closer, my pulse hammering. “Zoom in.”
The guard did.
My stomach dropped.
Her posture. The way she moved. The seconds before the car pulled out.
Something was off.
She hadn’t started that engine.
“Play it again,” I ordered.
The guard rewound. The feed rolled back. Liliana opened the door, slid inside. Seconds later, the car jerked forward too smoothly, too fast.
She wasn’t the one driving.
The realization hit me like ice water down my spine.
Someone was with her.
Someone had her.
My hands curled into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms.
My girl. Pregnant with my child. Gone.
I could feel my heart slamming against my ribs, each beat a violent reminder of what was at stake.
I ran my hands through my hair, pacing hard across the room. My mind was a storm—every possibility, every threat, every enemy we’d ever made flashing before me.
Lily. Her mother. Someone else pulling the strings.
They had her.
And I had no idea where she was.
Not yet.
But I would find her.
I didn’t care if I had to tear down this entire city brick by brick. Whoever touched her—whoever dared take her from me—would learn what it meant to cross Ronny.
My chest heaved as I forced myself to focus, to push past the chaos in my head. I wasn’t just fighting for her anymore.
I was fighting for them.
Her. And the life growing inside her.
My family.
And I was not going to lose them.
Not now. Not ever.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
