James entered the study with a measured stride, his face etched with lines of concern that deepened the shadows under his eyes. The room, once a bastion of calculated power, now felt suffocating under the weight of unspoken revelations. Rafael, still seated behind his massive oak desk, looked up sharply, his grey eyes narrowing like storm clouds gathering force. The air was thick with the acrid scent of spilled whiskey, shards of crystal glinting on the floor like fallen stars.
"Sir," James began, his voice steady but laced with gravity, "I've started on the footage pulls—they'll take time. But there's something else. Urgent."
Rafael looked up, steeling himself. "What?"
"Frank Bennett—Eliana's father. He's been transferred out of the private hospital you placed him in. No records, no authorization. Vanished, just like her. No one knows who took him."
