On the top deck of the cruise liner, Olivia Hayes stood by the gangway, her posture elegant and her face set with a practiced, porcelain smile.

"Mr. Robertson, welcome aboard. I trust tonight’s banquet will wash away the fatigue of your travels."

She extended a hand, offering a brief, firm shake.

Alfred Robertson gave a slight nod. "Thank you, Ms. Hayes. The view here is indeed spectacular."

His voice was calm and unnervingly direct. "I’ve done my due diligence on the trajectory of Hayes Enterprises over the last few years. It’s been quite the study."

"I heard that the most profitable hotel under your banner was on the verge of bankruptcy five years ago. It was saved by a young chef who, with nothing but a menu he designed himself, turned it around in just one month. It became so popular that getting a table was impossible."

He held her gaze, watching as her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "I’m much more interested in that story than I am in your financial reports. Tonight, I only want to taste the food prepared by that chef—Mr. Ethan Spencer."

Olivia maintained her composure, her smile returning to its polished state. "You’re absolutely right. Chef Spencer is a cornerstone of our group. Please, rest assured, tonight’s menu was personally curated and prepared by him."

"The banquet doesn't start for another hour. Please, head to the VIP lounge and enjoy the refreshments we’ve prepared for you."

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the warmth drained from Olivia’s face. She strode toward her secretary, Joy Bailey, who was waiting in the shadows. Her voice was a low, jagged blade of urgency. "Where is Ethan? Why isn't he here yet?"

Joy looked visibly shaken. "Ms. Hayes, our team sent a car to the hospital as scheduled. He should have been picked up by now."

Before she could finish, a phone rang. Joy glanced at the screen, her face turning pale. She looked at Olivia with wide, panicked eyes.

Olivia felt a cold pit form in her stomach. She snatched the phone from Joy’s hand. "What is it?"

Marvin Tucker’s voice sounded frantic on the other end. "Ms. Hayes, I’m at the hospital room. He’s... he’s gone. His personal belongings are gone, too."

"I checked with the nurse’s station. They said Mr. Spencer signed his own discharge papers."

"What?"

Olivia’s pupils constricted, and her body swayed as if she’d been struck. She grabbed Joy’s arm, her grip so tight that the secretary winced in pain. "Gone? Where the hell did he go? Find him! Now!"

"I checked the hospital surveillance, Ms. Hayes. He got into a Maybach and drove off."

"A Maybach? Track him! I want his exact coordinates within five minutes!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Olivia felt the blood rushing to her head, a throbbing pressure that mirrored her spiraling rage. At this critical juncture, with a five-billion-dollar project on the line and Alfred Robertson specifically demanding his presence, Ethan had just vanished?

Had he simply ignored everything she’d drilled into him yesterday? Or was this some twisted game to make her worry, to force her to suffer?

How could Ethan disappear right under her nose?

Olivia barked at her secretary, her voice cold enough to freeze the room. "Use every connection we have. Drag him here if you have to!"

Joy scrambled away to make the calls.

Damon Meyer, who had been listening from the corner, frowned in irritation. "He’s just acting out, Olivia. It’s a pathetic power play—trying to make you chase him, trying to show you how 'essential' he is."

"Don’t worry about it. He’s just trying to scare you. He’s probably already on his way here."

Damon scoffed, pacing the floor. "I doubt he has the spine to actually go against you and me. He doesn't have the guts."