A month had passed.
Despite throwing himself into work, Zeke couldn't shake off Cassidy's lingering presence in his mind. One evening, after an unusually quiet dinner alone in the penthouse, he finally gave in to the weight pressing on his chest and called Blake.
Blake voice was quick and formal as always. "Yes, sir."
"Any updates on Cassidy?" Zeke asked, his voice low but steady.
There was a pause on the other end before Blake replied in a low voice, "The last time my team saw Madam was a month ago. She was heading to the airport… with a small suitcase. It looked like she was leaving."
Zeke straightened in his seat. His sharp brows furrowed. "And she hasn't come back to America?"
"No, sir."
Silence fell between them again—cold, like ice.
"Does your team know where she went?" Zeke asked, his tone sharper now.
Blake hesitated. His instincts—sharpened by years of working for the Salvador family—told him something was off. He slowly realized that maybe… Cassidy had left without saying a word. Not even to her husband.
"I'm sorry, sir. They don't know where Madam went," he finally replied, cautiously.
Zeke ended the call without another word. Just a cold "click" was left behind.
Now he was sure—Cassidy had left without telling Zeke anything. Not even a goodbye
Blake stared at the now dark screen of his phone. Truly dark—just like the feeling settling in his chest. Something hardened inside him—a gut feeling he couldn't shake off. His mind wandered back to a small but unusual incident: the day Madam Cassidy quietly visited Roseland Hospital.
There was something about it, he thought. But what?
Blake let out a slow breath. His fingers tapped absently on his desk. He was torn—should he tell Zeke about Cassidy's visit to the hospital?
But in the end, he shook his head and made a choice. No. If Madam wanted to keep something hidden, perhaps it was not his place to reveal it. Besides, he didn't know the real reason behind her visit.
After ending the call with Blake, Zeke stood in silence, gripping his phone a little too tightly. His gaze was locked on Cassidy's contact name glowing on the screen.
He pressed the call button.
One ring... two...
No, wait—not even a ring. Just silence. Then the automated voice:
"The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable."
Zeke's brows drew together. He ended the call and tried again. Same thing.
A third time. A fourth.
Still no answer. No voicemail. No dial tone.
He stared at the screen and muttered under his breath, "Did she block me?"
Or was her number no longer active? Had she changed it? Or was she simply in a place so far removed, so hidden, that even the signal couldn't reach her?
Zeke let out a short, humorless laugh, dropping his phone onto the couch as frustration crept into his voice. "Of course she didn't tell me. Why should she? We're nothing now."
Yet the bitter taste in his mouth didn't fade. If they were truly nothing, why did it still feel like this?
A beat passed. He reached for his phone again and, this time, called Andrew.
When the line connected, he didn't waste a second.
"I need you to check something for me," Zeke said without preamble. "Cassidy. I want a full record of her departure at the airport last month—where she went, and if possible… where she is now."
Andrew didn't ask questions. He rarely did when Zeke used that tone.
"I'll contact our people at Homeland and the private security line. Give me a few hours."
Zeke ended the call and stood by the tall window of his penthouse, his eyes staring out blankly at the glittering skyline of New York. France? Why France?
By evening, Andrew called back. "We got something. Her flight last month was bound for Paris. That's all the system shows—she left the country using her real identity. After that, there's nothing. No return flight, no official movements."
Zeke's silence on the other end of the line was heavy.
"But," Andrew continued, "I've asked someone in our European network to start looking for her. No guarantees—we're working without a trail. No forwarding address, no credit card activity, nothing. Finding someone like this takes time."
Zeke finally spoke, his voice low and sharp.
"Find her. No matter how long it takes."
***
Three Months Later
The air inside Zeke's office was still and cold, mirroring the rigid expression on his face. He sat behind his large desk, fingers interlaced, eyes locked on the tablet screen before him. Even when Andrew entered quietly and stood near the bookshelf, Zeke didn't look up.
Finally, Zeke spoke, his voice low but firm.
"Any updates on Cassidy?"
Andrew adjusted his glasses before answering,
"Still the same, sir. No trace of her since that last sighting at the airport in France. It's possible she's just traveling, maybe trying to explore the world."
Zeke's jaw clenched. His gaze shifted sharply toward Andrew. "If she were just traveling, her name would've shown up at one of the airports we're monitoring. And if she were still in France, our team would've found her by now."
Andrew hesitated for a moment before replying,
"Our agents in Europe believe she may have changed her identity, sir. Most likely, she left France—under a new name."
Zeke leaned back slowly, letting the weight of Andrew's words sink in. His mind spun with confusion, frustration, disbelief.
Why? Why go through all this trouble just to disappear from my life?
There was no answer. Only the storm churning in his chest, growing louder each day.
As Andrew finished his report and quietly left the room, Zeke closed his eyes briefly. Only one name came to mind—someone who might still know something: Georgia.
He grabbed his phone and dialed her number.
It rang once. Twice. Then that familiar, cheerful voice answered. "Zeke! What a surprise."
"Georgia," Zeke said directly, skipping any small talk. "Do you know where Cassidy went?"
Georgia's tone instantly shifted.
"Wow. Straight to the point, huh? Not even a 'how are you?'"
Zeke said nothing.
She sighed. "Why are you asking about Cass? I thought you two were divorced."
"There's something I need to talk to her about," Zeke replied quietly but firmly.
Georgia paused for a moment before answering.
"Well... all I know is, she said she needed to travel, clear her mind. Some kind of healing trip around the world. That's what she told me."
Zeke frowned. "You don't know where she is now?"
"No," Georgia answered. "She didn't give me any details. Just that she needed space and time. Said she'd be gone for a while."
Zeke leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Georgia's words didn't ease the heaviness in his chest. If anything, they made it worse.
Three months had passed. And still, not a single clear lead.
Zeke sat in his chair, motionless. The shadows in his office had grown longer, crawling over the floor as the hours passed, but he hadn't moved. Not even once.
Why am I doing this?
Why am I so desperate to find her?
He stared blankly at the ceiling, the quiet hum of the air conditioning the only sound in the room.
Was it because he had fallen for her? Was that what this was all about? Had he really come to care so much—so deeply—that he was now sending agents across continents, combing through records, chasing after shadows?
He scoffed quietly at himself.
She never loved me. He had always known that.
Maybe… maybe she had left because she needed a clean start. A new life, away from everything—including him.
And if that was true… what would he even say to her if he found her? What would he do?
Would he ask her to come back?
Would he try to explain feelings she likely never returned?
His chest felt heavy again—but this time, not from confusion. It was something closer to clarity. A bitter kind of acceptance.
Zeke exhaled, the decision forming like steel in his mind. He picked up the phone once more and dialed.
Andrew answered immediately. "Sir?"
"Call back the team in Europe," Zeke said, voice even and controlled. "We're done looking for her. Terminate the search. All of it."
There was a brief pause on the other end, but Andrew didn't question him. "Understood."
The call ended. Zeke ended the call without another word.
He whispered to himself, barely audible:
"If she wanted to disappear, then so be it."
He dropped the phone on the desk with a dull thud and leaned forward, bracing himself on both arms.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it, Cass? A life without me. A future without any of this. Fine. Then I'll give it to you."