What Elena didn’t know was that at that exact moment, a black luxury sedan rolled silently into the parking lot.
The man who stepped out wore an expensive coat already soaked through, his posture rigid, his expression carved from stress and exhaustion. His name was Julian Cross, and he had spent the last hour driving aimlessly through the storm, trying to outrun a phone call that had shattered the illusion of control he’d spent his entire life building.
“Mr. Cross,” the administrator had said, voice trembling, “your father is missing.”
Julian had built a multibillion-dollar empire from nothing. He was used to crises, to negotiations, to fixing problems with money and influence. But this was different. His father, Leonard Cross, once a towering presence in his life, had been slowly disappearing into illness, his memory unraveling piece by piece.
Julian had responded the way he always did—by paying for the best facility, the best staff, the best protection. He told himself that was love.
Now his father was gone, alone somewhere in the storm, and no amount of money could rewind the hours already lost.