August 5th, 2025
Ritz-Carlton Hotel - 9:36 AM
The morning sun cast a golden hue over the Tokyo skyline, pouring soft light into the penthouse through tall, spotless windows. Ian zipped up his modest duffel bag, eyes heavy with unshed emotion. The room around him was quiet, almost reverent, like it knew this was a goodbye.
He glanced around one last time, trying to memorize everything - the polished marble, the modern minimalist design, the faint scent of jasmine from Isabelle's favorite candle still lingering in the air.
He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed toward the door.
"Ian," Isabelle called, her voice unexpectedly soft yet unmistakably trembling.
He turned. There she stood at the kitchen threshold, barefoot, wearing a white oversized shirt and plaid lounge pants.
Her hair was messy, but her eyes—those blue eyes that once melted his resolve—were wide and glistening.
"You're really leaving?" she asked.
Ian gave a small nod. "I have to."
She stepped closer, slow and hesitant. "I... I just wanted to say goodbye properly. Not like last time."
He offered a gentle, tired smile. "Goodbyes never get easier, do they?"
Silence hung heavy between them as they stood only inches apart. The air thickened, charged, aching.
They looked into each other's eyes, feeling the words unspoken. Their bodies were close enough that their breath mingled. A heartbeat. Another. The world slowed.
Then Isabelle lunged - not for a kiss, but for a hug. A tight, almost desperate embrace.
Ian tensed at first, caught off guard, but soon his arms wrapped around her too, warm and understanding.
As they hugged, Isabelle's fingers slipped subtly into her pocket. She gripped a small, flat object: a discreet, high-end Bluetooth GPS tracker. Without Ian noticing, she gently unzipped the side of his duffel bag and tucked it deep into one of the inner compartments. Zip. Done.
But where did she get the GPS tracker?
Last night....
As the detective was about to enter his vehicle, someone spoke behind him.
"You got any GPS trackers on you?"
The detective turned around, bothered by Isabelle's question. "What? Why? What for?" He asked.
She leaned in, her voice silky but firm. "None of your business. I just need one. Small.
The detective scratched his hair. "500K yen. One of my guys has a spare. Military-grade. You sure about this?"
Isabelle reached into her clutch, pulled out a thick wad of yen bills, and placed it on the table like it was poker night. She smiled with her usual charismatic ease. "Never been surer."
Back to present...
Ian pulled away from the hug slowly. "Take care of yourself, Isabelle. I hope your life stays peaceful."
Her smile was weak but honest. "Okay."
He gave a small nod, picked up his bag, and walked out the door. The soft click of it closing behind him echoed like a bell marking the end of something precious.
Minutes later, Isabelle sat alone on the same couch where they had spent the night talking. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened her phone. A few taps brought her to the tracking app.
There he was.
A blinking dot.
Ian.
Moving.
She exhaled slowly, relief washing over her.
The GPS tracker
Wasted thousands of Japanese Yen.
It seems she didn't want him to go. She didn't want him to completely vanish from her life.
No.
Not yet.
Even if Ian wanted to vanish from her life, Isabelle wouldn't permit it.
No.
Not yet.
In Tachibana-Kawasaki Headquarters - 12:56 PM
The Tachibana-Kawasaki headquarters was a cold, towering structure of black glass and steel. Inside, it was all sharp lines, polished marble, and lifeless efficiency.
Ruth Tachibana sat at her desk, surrounded by stacks of contracts, acquisition reports, and criminal family dealings hidden under corporate camouflage.
But none of that mattered right now.
She stared at a picture frame in her hand. A candid shot - Ruth and Ian, mid-laugh, sitting on a bench during one of those rare peaceful evenings months ago.
Her smile in the picture was soft, vulnerable. The Ruth in the office now was different. Her eyes were wide, obsessed, her fingers tightening on the photo frame.
"Tonight," she whispered to herself. "I'll bring you back, Ian."
"We'll leave this country tomorrow, together. And we will live our lives, together and forever."
Her lips curled into a soft, victorious smile. The kind that would unsettle even the boldest men.
Knock knock.
"Yes?" Ruth called, her voice irritated, not even glancing up.
A junior secretary nervously poked her head through the door. "Kawasaki-sama, your parents are here."
Ruth's eyes snapped up. "What?"
"Your parents. They're waiting in the main lobby. Shall I bring them in?"
Ruth's brow furrowed deeply. She hadn't seen them in months, maybe years. What the hell were they doing here now? Was it coincidence, or worse, planned interference?
She set the picture frame down with a soft clink on her polished desk.
"Let them in," she said, her voice as icy as the marble beneath her heels.
As the door clicked shut behind the secretary, Ruth smoothed her jacket and leaned back in her chair.
"Let's see what you two want... now of all times."
She glanced once more at the photo of Ian.
"Don't worry, Ian" she whispered, smiling again. "This won't distract me."