Cole's POV
The night had been absolute hell. Dad sat slumped in his armchair, face lined with worry. Ophelia paced the floor, chewing her nails raw. And Damon—God, Damon looked ready to murder someone. Here we were at midday, and still no word about my sister Maya. Police officers had left at dawn to search the city and check all of Connor's properties I'd listed, but Damon hadn't called with any updates.
Work seemed trivial in comparison. I'd instructed my secretary to reschedule everything—the company would have to survive without me for a day. My phone's shrill ring cut through the tense silence. The devil herself. I put it on speaker for Dad and Ophelia to hear but motioned for them to stay silent.
"What do you want, Claire?" I answered, unable to mask the contempt in my voice.
"To talk, obviously." Her tone dripped with sarcasm. "Isn't that what phones are for?"
