Atlas sat at the table.
The plate in front of him untouched.
People were talking around him—voices blurred into static. He wasn't tracking any of it.
His phone lay face-up on the linen tablecloth.
The screen lit.
Noah: Lunch with my dad. Miss you
Atlas's fingers stopped mid-reach for his water glass. His thumb tapped the table edge twice—unconscious rhythm.
Atlas: Why
The reply came fast.
Noah: idk
His jaw shifted. Eyes fixed on the screen—no expression, but something tightened behind them.
Atlas: Where
Noah: some private thing
Atlas leaned back. Exhaled through his nose—slow, measured.
Atlas: call if it's weird
Noah: ok
Then: love you
Atlas's thumb hovered over the keyboard. Didn't move. He set the phone down carefully—too carefully—and looked at nothing in particular.
His chest felt wrong.
That pressure he knew too well, settling in like fog.
Fuck.
---
An hour passed.
Then another.
He opened his phone. Typed a message.
The blue checkmark never appeared.
Atlas set it down.
Thirty seconds later, he checked again.
Then he called.
"This number is currently unavailable."
His face didn't change.
But his breath caught—half a second, barely noticeable.
He inhaled again. Slower this time. Too controlled.
---
Lydia
He scrolled to her name.
Pressed call.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Lydia: "Hey Atlas—"
Atlas: "Is Noah with you?"
His voice flat. That dangerous kind of calm that made people nervous.
Lydia: "No? Did something happen?"
Atlas: "His phone's off."
Silence on her end.
When Lydia went quiet, it meant panic.
Lydia: "That's... not normal."
Atlas: "No."
He hung up.
No goodbye. No explanation.
Nothing.
---
Elias and Clara
Atlas: Noah with you?
Clara: No?? He was here till noon but his dad's assistant picked him up. That's all we know
Elias: What's going on?
Atlas didn't reply.
He set the phone on the table. Stared at it.
His hands wanted to move—clench, grip something, anything.
He kept them loose. Flat on the mahogany.
Couldn't look weak.
He tilted his head back instead. Closed his eyes. Breathed.
The air didn't reach his lungs.
His eyes opened. Dropped to the phone again.
Still nothing.
---
The pressure in his chest came back—sharper now.
His throat burned.
But his face stayed blank.
He made a fist under the table where no one could see. The muscle in his jaw jumped.
Thomas did something.
No proof.
No message.
No information.
Just instinct.
If Noah's saying "I love you" out of nowhere... something's wrong.
Atlas picked up his phone again.
Thought about who to contact.
Not Thomas. Never direct.
He scrolled.
Stopped on one name.
Helen.
Noah's mother.
---
Atlas pressed the button.
It rang three times.
Helen: "Atlas? Did something happen?"
Atlas: "Can't reach Noah. He went to lunch with his father. Didn't know where. After his last text... phone went dead. Two hours ago."
Silence.
Not panic. Analysis.
Helen: "...That's not normal."
The muscle in Atlas's jaw ticked again.
Atlas: "No."
Helen's breathing shifted—still controlled, but heavier.
Helen: "Thomas left this morning... He wasn't himself. But he didn't say anything outright."
Atlas: "You suspect something?"
Helen: "Not suspect. Just... When Thomas is planning something, he gets very quiet. He was like that today."
Atlas waited.
Helen: "I don't know anything right now." A pause. "But I will."
Atlas's knuckles rapped the desk once. Short. Silent. Controlled.
Atlas: "From who?"
Helen: "Assistants. Drivers. Security. I'll keep you informed."
His breathing got heavier—barely audible, but there.
Helen: "Atlas... Stay calm. How you appear matters."
His voice turned to steel.
Atlas: "I am calm."
Helen knew that wasn't true. But she didn't push.
Helen: "You need to keep your composure. It's the only way you can help him."
Atlas said nothing.
Just breathed.
Helen: "I'll look into it. If I learn anything, you'll be the first call."
Atlas: "Okay."
Helen's tone softened—but only in sound, not meaning.
Helen: "Atlas... you won't lose him."
Atlas closed his eyes.
Atlas: "Keep me posted."
Helen: "I will." Then her voice shifted back to high-class detachment. "And please... don't let anyone see. Not anything. In this world, composure is power."
Atlas: "I know."
---
The second he hung up, he stood.
His face was stone.
But his eyes were dark with lethal calm.
He checked his phone one more time. Screen blank.
Atlas grabbed his coat.
Controlled his breathing.
Walked to the door.
The muscle at the edge of his jaw twitched hard.
He didn't wait for the elevator.
Took the stairs.
His steps were fast but didn't look panicked—just someone with somewhere urgent to be.
By the time he reached the parking garage, the air was cool, concrete and exhaust familiar.
His car was right there.
He walked up, opened the door, slid inside.
The moment the door closed, the silence pressed in.
He leaned against the steering wheel.
Tried to breathe deep. The tightness in his chest didn't ease.
He pulled out his phone.
Screen still dark. No notifications.
He stared at it anyway—like if he looked long enough, Noah's name would appear.
It didn't.
He called Alice.
Alice: "Atlas?"
Atlas: "Can't reach Noah. Phone's off."
Alice's voice sharpened immediately. No panic. Just focus.
Alice: "Where are you?"
Atlas: "Leaving the office."
A breath on her end. Decision made.
Alice: "I'm home. Come here."
Atlas: "On my way."
---
Alice's House
The gate opened before he reached it.
Atlas drove through.
Alice was already at the front door. Calm. Steady.
Atlas parked. Got out.
She looked at him without speaking.
His face was expressionless but his eyes were starting to redden—anger, stress, both. Alice was reading him.
They walked inside together.
The second the door closed behind them, Atlas stopped. Didn't take off his coat. Just stood there, staring at a fixed point.
Alice: "What happened."
Atlas shook his head.
Didn't lose composure.
Atlas: "Can't reach Noah. Phone's off. Hours now."
Alice's face hardened.
Alice: "Look at me."
Atlas turned his eyes to hers.
She took a breath. Measured the situation—not to calm him down, but to gauge how bad this was.
Alice: "Okay. Sit. Tell me everything from the beginning."
Atlas didn't sit.
Stayed standing.
Hands in his pockets.
Atlas: "He went to lunch with his father. We texted. Then... phone died. Messages won't deliver. Called him. Off."
Alice's brows lifted slightly.
Alice: "He didn't say where they were going?"
Atlas: "No."
Silence.
Atlas's breathing got rougher.
Alice stepped closer, softened her voice just slightly.
Alice: "Okay. Pull yourself together."
Atlas nodded but still didn't sit.
Adjusted his collar—purely a control gesture.
Atlas: "Something happened. I know it."
Alice took a deep breath when she heard that.
Because when Atlas talked like this, he was never wrong.
Alice: "Okay. Okay. Let's start with what we know."
His jaw clenched but his eyes eased—just for a second.
Alice stepping in always steadied him.
Atlas: "I need to find him."
Alice: "We will."
His breath deepened.
Alice moved closer, touched his arm lightly.
Between them, this was a signal. Balance.
Alice: "I'm here. We'll figure this out together."
Atlas met her gaze. Nodded once.
Acknowledgment. Acceptance. Gratitude—all in one movement.
Alice stepped toward the door.
Alice: "Come on. Study."
Atlas followed.
Finally moved.
---
Alice closed the door behind them.
Atlas stood in the center of the room. Didn't sit.
Alice walked to the bar cart.
Alice: "What do you want?"
Atlas: "Whiskey."
She poured two fingers. Neat. Handed it to him.
Atlas took it. Drank half in one swallow.
Then he pulled a cigarette from his inside pocket. Lit it. The flame reflected in his eyes for a second before he shook it out.
Alice watched him.
He took a drag. Exhaled slowly through his nose. The smoke curled up toward the coffered ceiling.
His phone sat on the table between them. He glanced at it. Still nothing.
Alice: "Did you talk to Helen?"
Atlas: "She doesn't know anything either."
Silence.
Atlas smoked. Alice sipped her own glass, eyes never leaving him.
Alice: "Thomas doesn't surprise me at all."
Atlas turned his head slightly. His voice came out flat.
Atlas: "No one knows anything."
More silence.
Atlas finished the cigarette. Stubbed it out in the crystal ashtray on the side table. Immediately lit another.
His eyes drifted to his phone again. He picked it up. Checked.
Nothing.
Set it back down.
Alice set her glass down.
Alice: "There's only one thing we can do. Have Thomas followed."
Atlas looked at her.
Alice: "What, you think Thomas is just going to tell you where Noah is?" She leaned forward slightly. "I know a firm. Very good at this kind of work. Discreet. Reliable team."
Atlas's eyes widened—just a fraction.
Alice held his gaze.
Alice: "Right now, that's what we can do."
Atlas: "How long."
Alice: "I don't know."
Atlas tensed even more. His shoulders went rigid.
Alice's mouth curved—barely. Bitter humor.
Alice: "What do you want me to say? Should we go to NYPD, pull traffic cams?"
Atlas: "I need something faster."
Alice's almost-smile faded. She looked at him seriously.
Alice: "You want me to reach out to the firm?"
Atlas met her eyes.
Atlas: "Do it."
Alice picked up her phone. Walked out of the room.
---
Atlas stood there alone.
He stared at the bookshelves without seeing them.
The whiskey glass was empty in his hand.
His phone was in the other. He kept checking the screen. Over and over.
Black. Silent. Dead.
A few minutes later, Alice came back in.
Alice: "They'll be here in a few hours."
Atlas looked at her. Nodded once.
Silence settled again.
Atlas lit another cigarette. Then another. Chain-smoking now.
Between drags, his thumb kept moving to his phone. Unlocking it. Staring at the empty screen. Locking it again.
Alice just watched.
The door opened.
Sienna walked in.
Sienna: "Hey—"
Atlas didn't look at her.
Alice moved immediately. Took Sienna's hand. Led her back out without a word.
The door closed again.
A few minutes passed.
Alice returned.
Alice: "You want something to eat?"
Atlas looked at her. His eyes were empty.
Alice came over. Sat beside him. Put her hand on his shoulder.
Alice: "We'll find him. Eventually."
Atlas didn't answer.
---
Alice's phone rang.
She stood. Left the room.
When she came back, two men in dark suits followed her.
Alice: "Atlas, this is Mike and Joel. Private security and tracking specialists."
Atlas looked at them. Said nothing.
Alice explained the situation—clean, factual, efficient.
The men asked questions. Atlas answered in monosyllables.
Mike: "We'll start with known properties. Security detail movements. Vehicle tracking."
Atlas watched them. Listened.
His phone was in his hand the entire time. He checked it twice during the conversation without meaning to.
When they finished, Alice walked them to the door.
Came back.
Alice: "They'll find him."
Atlas just stared.
Alice glanced at his phone on the table.
Alice: "At least answer the important ones."
Atlas had been sitting in the same spot for hours. Hadn't moved. Like he wasn't even there.
His phone was still in his hand. Screen lit, then dark, then lit again. Checking. Always checking.
Alice studied him.
Alice: " This is their playbook. You know that."
Atlas stood abruptly. Started pacing the room. Slow, deliberate steps.
Then his hands curled into fists.
Alice took a deep breath.
Alice: "If Thomas knows, Richard knows too."
Atlas turned. Looked at her with pure anger.
Alice kept going.
Alice: "Right now you have two problems."
Atlas: "I can't think about my father right now."
Alice: "He's exactly who you need to think about."
Atlas: "Fuck."
Alice: " You can't do this alone. You know who you need."
Atlas didn't respond for a long moment.
Then: "I'll talk to my mother. Evelyn. Charles."
Another silence.
Atlas: "I'm leaving."
Alice stopped him.
Alice: "You can't go anywhere like this."
Atlas looked at her. Hard.
Alice: "Don't look at me like that."
She stood. Walked over. Wrapped her arms around him.
Atlas didn't hug back.
Alice: "You can't meet anyone like this." She pulled back slightly. "Your room's ready. If you need to be alone, go there."
Atlas's hand finally moved—settled on her back.
Atlas: "Thanks."
Alice stepped away after a moment.
Atlas picked up his phone. They walked toward the stairs together.
Alice: "Shower. Change. There's clothes in the closet."
She opened the door for him.
Closed it behind him.
---
Atlas stood in the dark room.
Didn't turn on the light.
Just stood there.
His phone buzzed.
He looked down.
Clara: Atlas??? Please tell us what's going on
He didn't reply.
Set the phone on the nightstand.
Sat on the edge of the bed.
Put his head in his hands.
Where are you.
What did he do to you.
Are you scared.
His chest hurt.
He couldn't breathe right.
But his face stayed blank.
He sat there, breathing wrong, chest tight.
Face blank.
Always blank.
Even when no one was watching.