When morning came, and his parents departed for their honeymoon, Ethan wasted no time. By noon, he was back on his jet, bound for Milan. The Marchesi empire would be Luca's responsibility for the next few weeks. And Ethan trusted no one more.
But Luxe Haven Development needed him. Projects were on pause. And Ava… Ava was in Barcelona. With Leo. She'd told him when she postponed the penthouse renovation. Her voice was soft on the call. Hesitant. Like she wasn't sure how much of herself to give. She didn't need his permission. Yet she'd asked anyway.
That alone haunted him more than it should have. He reminded himself—patience. Always have patience. But by Wednesday, patience shattered. His phone rang. Luca.
Ethan answered immediately. Then—silence. The line went dead before a word was spoken. He called Luca back, and then he tried again. No response. Each time straight to voicemail. Then his burner phone rang. Luca. Ethan answered.
"Where the hell are you?" Ethan is anxious.
Luca's voice was urgent, breathless. "Ethan, listen carefully. They're going to harm Ava."
The world around Ethan blurred, his grip on the phone tightening. "What?" His voice was dangerously low.
"Tomorrow. Dominic or your half-sisters. They're making their move as we speak." Luca said and immediately the call ended. Ethan's blood ran cold.
He called Ava immediately. No answer. The line cut. Static. Then nothing. Gone.
Ethan stared at his phone, heartbeat thundering in his ears. He redialed immediately. Ava. One ring. Two rings. Then voicemail.
He hung up, called again. Same result. No answer.
His thumb flew across the screen texting Ava. > Ava, where are you? Call me. It's urgent. Please. Delivered. Not read.
He tried again. And again. Her silence grew heavier with every second. He switched to Leo. Straight to voicemail.
"No. No, no—come on," Ethan muttered, pacing the length of the marble hallway like a caged animal. His jaw clenched. Sweat gathered at the back of his neck. He tried calling Luca. A blessed ring.
"Luca—where is she? Tell me you've got eyes on—"
Static crackled. Then silence. The line went dead.
Ethan froze, phone pressed tight to his ear as if willing it to work by force alone. The silence on the other end was deafening. Disconnected.
A sick feeling coiled in his gut. The kind that didn't come from paranoia—but from knowing. From instincts sharpened by survival. He wasn't being ignored.
Something was wrong.
Terribly, fucking wrong.
And he had wasted enough time, so he called his pilot. Orders flew from his lips as he stormed toward the hangar. "Jet ready in an hour. Now.!"
With Luca gone and no leads, Ethan turned to the obvious. Where would Leo take her? He searched. Found the reservation. Mandarin Oriental, Barcelona.
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Barcelona, Spain
He arrived at Mandarin Oriental around noon, at the front desk, he tried to pursue their whereabouts but the receptionist smiled apologetically. "I'm very sorry, sir, we can't disclose our guest information...…."
"Let me be clear to you. I'm not asking, it's a matter of life and death!" Ethan raised his voice, tone sharp, eyes dangerous. Before things escalated and the receptionist called security,
Ethan sat on the sofa at the lobby, clueless before a miracle happened, a cleaning staff member walked past and whispered, "Mr. and Mrs. Vargas-Clairmont left about an hour ago. Said they were heading to Park Güell."
Mrs. Vargas-Clairmont. His jaw tightened. Ava wasn't Leo's wife!
Not yet. Not ever. But the thought clawed at him.
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Barcelona gleamed under the golden hush of late afternoon as Ethan arrived at Park Güell. The air buzzed with tourists, artists, and sunlight.
He scanned the plaza, heart pounding. Ethan moved through the vibrant crowds with laser focus. Then he saw him. Leo Vargas-Clairmont, eyes darting between his phone and the street outside Olot Restaurant, sunglasses on, casually sipping an espresso like he didn't have the world's most precious thing sitting just across the street. 'Ava.'
She stood at the crosswalk, gelato in hand, the caramel drizzle melting lazily over her fingers. A breeze teased a strand of hair across her cheek. She didn't notice anything except her eyes darted on Leo.
Relief hit him like a fist to the chest. There she was. The love of his life.' Unharmed. Breathing. Blissfully unaware.
But it didn't last.
The roar of an engine sliced through the late afternoon calm. Too loud. Too fast. He turned his head—just a fraction. A black car. Barreling down the narrow street. No intention of stopping.His instincts screamed. It wasn't random. It was aimed. His feet were already moving.
"AVA!!" he shouted, the force of her name ripped from his throat.
She turned, eyes wide, blinking against the sun. Their gazes locked—just for a second. And then he reached her.
His arms wrapped around her as the car struck. A sickening crack. Bone. Metal. Flesh. The world spun.
He felt her gasp against him, the gelato crushed between them. Then the ground tore him away from everything. Pain burst like fireworks through his body, white-hot and shattering. He hit the pavement with a sound he barely registered over Ava's scream—raw, guttural, echoing off the stone buildings.
He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. But he felt her.
Her fingers clutched at his shirt. Her voice trembled, desperate, breaking—calling his name over and over.
Another voice joined hers—Leo. Cursing. Urgent. Pressing his hands over his chest, pumping his chest so he can breathe again.
Ethan saw a glimpse of Ava's palm full of warm blood. Wet. His blood. She then called an ambulance.
He tried to open his eyes. Trying to say he's fine.
Everything was too bright.
Then it was too dark.
The pain ebbed, slipping away with his breath.
Just before the blackness swallowed him whole, one thought rose above the rest, sharp and chilling: Ava is still in danger.