Chapter 4 Where Are You
A thick vein throbbed on Lorenzo’s forehead.
His hand shot up, raking through his hair as he paced a step back, fury boiling under his skin. Then came the bitter laugh—short, sharp, and void of humor.
“She blocked me?” he repeated in disbelief, as if the words themselves didn’t register.
He looked toward the hospital doors, his gaze ice-cold and burning all at once.
“Fine,” he growled. “Find her. I want to know where she’s gone, who she’s with, and what time she even blinked.”
His voice dropped into a low warning. “Let’s see how far she really thinks she can run from me.”
"Yes, Mr. Moretti," Xander muttered, pulling out his phone and walking off with urgency as he dialed a number.
Just then, Dr. Lyle came rushing out of the hospital doors, his face pale, brows furrowed in concern. He stopped right in front of Lorenzo, slightly breathless.
"Mr. Moretti," he said quickly, "Ms. Esther’s condition has flared up again. It's bad."
Lorenzo didn’t waste a second. The moment he heard Esther’s name, he spun around and strode back inside with Lyle by his side. His long strides were firm and fast.
They pushed through the ward doors, and Lorenzo's eyes immediately landed on Esther.
She was curled forward on the hospital bed, her hands clutching the sides of her head as she rocked gently, soft sobs escaping her lips. Her pale face was contorted in pain, her body trembling under the thin blanket.
The moment her eyes found him, she stilled—like a drowning girl spotting a rescue boat. Her gaze locked onto him desperately, pleading, broken, as if just the sight of him was enough to ground her in the chaos.
Lorenzo took a step forward, but before he could reach her, the team of doctors surrounded the bed. One of them gently tilted Esther back as another administered the sedative through her IV.
Within seconds, her body slackened, the tension draining from her limbs. Her sobs faded into silence, and her eyelids fluttered shut.
Once the room settled and the steady beep of monitors replaced the chaos, Dr. Lyle stepped quietly beside Lorenzo. His voice dropped to a low, cautious tone.
“Mr. Moretti… Ms. Esther’s condition is worsening rapidly. If we don’t begin treatment with Astra within the next ten days, she might not make it.”
Lorenzo didn’t speak at first. His jaw locked tight, his eyes fixed on the fragile figure lying unconscious in the bed. After a beat, he gave a curt, sharp nod.
Then he turned to Xander, his voice low but edged with fire.
“Find Astra. I don’t care what it takes—money, people, favors—burn every bridge if you have to. I want her here before Esther’s time runs out.”
“Understood, sir,” Xander said with a stiff nod, voice all business.
He shot a quick glance at Esther, then turned and walked out of the room. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the professionalism melted off his face like cheap cologne in the sun. He planted his hands on his hips, narrowed his eyes, and threw one last look at the door.
“He made Mrs. Moretti run away, and now he’s playing a knight in shining armor for this one?” he muttered, shaking his head. “Make it make sense, Lord.”
His steps slowed as he walked, full of dramatic irritation. “Find Astra in ten days when nobody’s found her in two years? What am I, a bloodhound?”
He raked a hand through his hair like a man personally victimized by his job, letting out a loud groan.
“Why is this job always so damn hard? I swear I need a raise… or a therapist. Probably both.”
***
Krystal paced the living room like a storm in heels, her hands on her hips, frustration stamped all over her face. Her jaw was tight, her lips pressed in a hard line, like she was one wrong word away from exploding.
Darren lounged on the couch across from her, watching her unravel with the calm of someone used to being her emotional punching bag.
“It’s impossible to find a decent job anymore!” she snapped, flinging her hands in the air. “And why the hell is that human Cactus always around? Of all people, him ?”
She stopped mid-stride, turned sharply, and marched toward him.
“I left him for a reason, Darren. I didn’t survive all that crap just to have Lorenzo’s face pop up every five damn minutes like a cursed ad! Running into him at the hospital today? That was not part of the plan.”
Her voice dropped, dead serious now.
“If he figures out Astra is me? It’s over. He has everything—my real name, number, my documents, hell, probably even my damn blood type.”
She stared at Darren, eyes wide with panic and urgency.
“We need to leave. Now. I’m not waiting around to be caught.”
Darren sighed heavily, running a hand down his face before standing up. He walked over and gently wrapped an arm around her tense shoulders.
“I get it, honey. I do. And yeah—leaving sounds smart right now. But we’re not the same spoiled brats from two years ago. We’re broke. No cash. No contacts. No home. Without money, we can’t even leave this damn block, let alone the country.”
Krystal’s nostrils flared. “Then steal some. I don’t care. Sell a kidney.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Whose? Yours or mine?”
She gave him a deadly glare.
He raised both hands. “Kidding. Sort of.”
Krystal’s expression crumpled. She sank onto the couch like a puppet with its strings cut, arms flopped wide, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Those divorce papers…” she murmured, voice raw. “I walked away from a hundred million in alimony. A hundred freaking million.” Her throat caught, and a soft, bitter sob slipped out. “If I’d known things would get this bad, I would've married him twice just to take it all.”
In the kitchen, Darren turned the tap and grabbed a glass, only catching the words ‘hundred million’ from her quiet meltdown.
“Yeah,” he replied absently, sipping water. “That bounty’s a hundred million now. Too bad we can’t take it since you’re not ready.”
Krystal’s head shot up. “What?”
Darren looked over his shoulder, cool as ever. “The bounty went up. Not twenty-five anymore. It’s one hundred mil. But don’t worry, I know you’d never risk your safety for money. I’ll turn it down.”
He turned toward his laptop, but Krystal launched off the couch like a woman possessed, slapped his arm, and snatched the laptop from his hands.
"When the hell did I say I wouldn’t accept it?" she breathed, eyes glued to the screen.
And there it was. Bold letters.
Reward: $100,000,000.
Darren frowned. “What about your safety?”
Krystal’s eyes gleamed like a raccoon spotting diamonds. “Screw safety,” she muttered, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Twenty-five million wasn’t worth the risk. But a hundred?”
She let out a laugh, wild and unbothered. “I could hire an army of bodyguards, buy a private island, and still ride into the sunset like a damn queen.”
She spun toward Darren, eyes sparkling. “Sign the damn contract. Half upfront, half after the job’s done.”
Darren chuckled, lifting his hand for a high five. “We’re about to be filthy rich again.”
Their palms slapped together with a satisfying smack, both grinning like criminals with a plan.
***
Lorenzo stood in his home office, his tall frame silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights casting a cold glow behind him.
The air inside was thick—charged—with rage barely held on a leash.
A single desk lamp flickered low, casting jagged shadows that stretched like claws across the room.
His voice erupted, sharp and thunderous, slicing through the silence like a whip.
“You’ve got every damn resource in the world at your disposal, and you still can’t find a small woman in a small fucking city?”
Xander stood a few feet away, shoulders taut, flinching at the raw fury in Lorenzo’s tone.
“I’ve really tried everything, sir,” he said carefully, voice tight with pressure.
“Someone’s covering Mrs. Moretti’s tracks.
Any footage of her at the hospital or nearby—gone.
Deleted. No trail, no timestamps, no sightings.
I can’t even confirm how she left the building. It’s like she vanished into thin air.”
Lorenzo took a slow, burning step forward. His jaw clenched, eyes darkening with rage.
“Are you serious right now?” he growled, the calm in his voice more terrifying than the earlier outburst. “You’re telling me… you can’t track down a girl who walked out with nothing ?”
He took another step, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous murmur.
“She left with nothing but the clothes on her back. No money. No power. She’s an orphan, Xander. A nobody.” His voice cracked slightly, rage boiling over the edges. "Where the hell could she go after leaving me?"
Xander flinched, drawing in a tense breath. He glanced at Lorenzo, the flicker of fear in his eyes barely masked. Truth be told, he had the same damn question—who the hell was covering the tracks of a housewife with no money, no family, no friends, and no resources?
The whole thing made no sense. The hospital’s security footage was wiped clean every time she showed up.
Not just the hospital entrance, but the surrounding street cameras too.
Everything around her movements went black, like someone had scrubbed her existence clean.
Like someone was deleting her existence in real-time.
It wasn’t just strange anymore. It was suspicious.
Before Xander could voice anything, Lorenzo’s phone rang, piercing the thick silence of the dimly lit room.
He looked down at the screen. Unknown number.
He picked it up with a sigh, brows furrowed. His jaw tightened as he answered.
"Hello," A woman’s voice came through, calm and clear. “This is Doctor Astra. I heard you were looking for me?”
Lorenzo froze. “Hello?”
But before he could say another word, the call disconnected.