The living room was a ghost town too, its sprawling elegance with plush velvet sofas and a crackling fireplace that threw dancing shadows across the walls, but no one to warm up to it. He tore through the gym with its gleaming equipment, the library stacked floor-to-ceiling with forgotten stories, even the bustling kitchens where the scent of fresh bread usually lingered—scouring nearly every shadowy nook and cranny of the massive Vexley mansion. That gnawing panic clawed tighter in his chest, twisting like a vice, making his heart pound harder with each empty room. Finally, he spotted Clara gliding down the hallway, cool and collected as always in her crisp uniform, her gorgeous curly brown hair cascading around her warm, motherly features like a comforting embrace.
"Clara, have you seen Rafael this morning?" James asked urgently, his voice pitched low.
