Chapter Twenty
Flynn
I stormed into the large glass-walled conference room, my pulse hammering in my ears. The overhead lights felt glaringly bright, heightening my already frazzled nerves.
I scanned the room in one swift motion, searching for any sign of my uncle Will—or even a member of his department.
Seeing no one from his team, I gave my assistant, Nelly, a sharp nod. She quietly shut the door, her posture tense as though she, too, sensed the storm brewing.
Gathered around the conference table were a handful of select individuals from Innovation and Tech, Finance, and Legal—people I trusted.
I’d called an emergency meeting just an hour ago, giving them scant details. From the way they fidgeted or clutched their pens, I could tell they were anxious to know what could be so urgent.
“All right,” I began, letting my voice carry the weight of my frustration, “let’s get down to business.” I slapped my hand on the table for emphasis, the sound echoing in the hush.
“We’ve got a major problem. Our competitors have gotten their hands on our new device design—yes, our unreleased device—and plan to launch before we do.”
A wave of alarmed chatter rippled through the room. People exchanged wide-eyed stares, and I could sense an undercurrent of fear. Someone cleared their throat loudly.
“But… how?” a voice rose from the far end of the table, tinged with disbelief. “How in the world did they get the designs?”
I tightened my jaw, forcing myself not to shout in rage. “I don’t have that answer yet. But I promise you, I will find out. And when I do, heads will roll.” My tone was measured, but the threat was clear.
A second voice chimed in, a note of panic creeping through: “We need to know how they’ve modified our design. We can’t just keep going without that information.”
I gestured to Nelly, who carried a thin stack of papers. She stepped forward, distributing copies to everyone while explaining what we’d managed to piece together so far: the approximate date of the rival’s launch announcement, rumored spec changes, and how the leak might have occurred.
The atmosphere was electric with tension—these people were not just my colleagues; they were the brains behind this project and had poured months, if not years, into it.
The longer I listened, the more my mind seethed. I couldn’t shake the suspicion that my uncle Will was involved. Only a handful of individuals had access to the full design specs, and he was among them.
Once Nelly finished her summary, I picked up the thread. “We have to pivot fast—triple our speed if we’re going to salvage this launch. Since they’ve beaten us to a public announcement, we can’t go live with our original blueprint. We need a new twist—something to make our product stand out.”
Anxious murmurs erupted, but I lifted a hand to bring silence again. “We’re not going to waste time panicking. We’ll do that after we fix the mess.” A few nervous laughs flared, quickly dying away.
“All right. Let’s brainstorm,” I said, stepping aside as Nelly readied her marker at the whiteboard. “What needs upgrading or overhauling, and how fast can we integrate those changes?”
Immediately, the room buzzed with energy. Ideas flew back and forth like a rapid-fire debate. Some staffers jotted notes on legal pads, others flipped through schematics, and Nelly scribbled suggestions in big, bold letters:
Battery life
Processor upgrade
Potential biometric security
Enhanced display
Revised price point
A young engineer, Alex, spoke up. “If we can incorporate advanced security—say, a fingerprint scanner or facial recognition—we’ll stand out from typical mid-range devices. Also, the sharper the display, the more appealing it’ll be at first glance. We could push the pixel density or opt for an AMOLED screen.”
I nodded, feeling the first hints of optimism. “Exactly. And what about our price point?”
The finance team debated figures. They pointed to spreadsheets, murmuring about production costs versus the final retail price. Eventually, they proposed a range that would keep us competitive without gutting our profit margins.
“All right. That’s settled,” I said, pacing a little as the tension in me refused to abate. “Now, the big question: launch date . Nelly, remind me—when are the Leicesters launching?”
She glanced at her tablet. “Exactly three weeks, sir. If we want to make a statement, we need to launch at least a week earlier. That would give us just over two weeks to finalize production.”
A heavy silence descended. We all knew that was extremely tight. But no one had a better alternative.
I took a moment to look around the table, meeting each person’s gaze. “We can do this. We’ll move our launch date forward. And we keep everything under wraps. ”
I paused, scanning their eyes. “We don’t reveal our revised product until twenty-four hours before the big day. We’ll take them by surprise, not the other way around.”
Mutters of agreement circulated. A few staff members sat up straighter, re-energized by the challenge. Once the meeting ended, I reminded them all: “This must stay between us. No one outside this room hears a word of what we’re planning. Are we clear?”
They nodded solemnly, gathering notes and stacking documents. I could practically feel the adrenaline spiking as each person hurried out, ready to jump into action.
I need them focused—and they need me to lead, I thought. But underneath that leader’s facade, I felt a gnawing unease. I’d deliberately excluded Will and his office from this discussion, suspecting his involvement in the leak. In any case, this was war—and I’d make sure we won it.
A Storm of Paperwork
Back in my office, the overhead lamps cast a stark glow on the cluttered desk: half-drunk coffee cups, design printouts, and urgent memos.
My phone screen lit up, and my stomach dropped when I saw the time. Cedar had asked me to come home early—something about important news—but early was long gone. In a flurry, I typed out a text:
“Hey babe, sorry but I’m running late. It’s an emergency at work. Go ahead and have dinner without me. Love you.”
I glanced at the phone, half-expecting an instant reply, but nothing came. Setting it aside, I tried to refocus. My assistant Nelly walked in, her usually composed expression taut with stress. She carried a stack of thick folders, documents essential for the Tech team.
“Sir,” she said, voice low, “I need your final review on these before we can move forward with the new specs.”
I massaged the back of my neck, scanning the first few pages. “All right, give me a moment.” My eyes flicked across diagrams and cost analyses, the hurried notes from our brainstorming session.
The margins were filled with scrawls about revised battery capacity, possible brand partnerships, and updated manufacturing timelines.
Then the head of Legal, a sharp-eyed woman named Henderson, stepped in. “We’ve put together a draft lawsuit against the Leicesters. You only need to sign off, and we’ll file. With any luck, it’ll stop them from launching our design.”
My mind whirled. Filing a lawsuit meant going all-in on a public battle, but at this point, it might be our best weapon.
“Okay,” I said, scanning the lawsuit text. “It’s pretty aggressive—but I’m on board.” I scrawled my signature, handing the file back. “Let’s proceed.”
Nelly slipped out, promising updates on manufacturing readiness. Henderson left soon after, leaving me alone in the echoing quiet of my office.
I tried to call Cedar during a brief lull, but it went straight to voicemail. An uneasy twinge prickled at my gut—Cedar never let her phone die without charging, especially not on a workday.
She probably just switched it off for a nap, I told myself, though I wasn’t convinced.
The next few hours were a blur of rapid meetings and phone calls. Each time my thoughts drifted to Cedar, someone else demanded my attention—another urgent question about our new plan, another contract to sign, another design tweak to approve. By the time the last meeting ended, it was close to 9 p.m. and I was dead on my feet.
Missing
I arrived home with shoulders slumped, exhaustion weighing me down. The house was dimly lit, and I called out, “Cedar?” My voice echoed hollowly. No reply.
Stepping into the kitchen, I found our housekeeper, Maria, scrolling through her phone. She stood up quickly at my entrance. “Good evening, sir.”
“Evening,” I said, glancing around. “Is Cedar in bed already?”
Maria shook her head. “No, sir. She hasn’t come home yet.”
My chest tightened. Cedar would have let me know if she was working late. I tried calling her again, but it went straight to voicemail a second time. “All right,” I muttered, “maybe she got tied up somewhere.” But why wouldn’t she answer?
I dialed Nurse Katie, hoping for a quick explanation. She picked up on the first ring—and promptly congratulated me on Cedar’s pregnancy .
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. “What?” I managed. “She’s pregnant?”
Katie paused, sounding flustered. “Oh… I thought she’d told you. She found out today—was super excited.”
A kaleidoscope of emotions whipped through me. Relief, happiness, awe—but also confusion. She’s pregnant, and she hasn’t come home?
I swallowed hard. “Katie, she’s not here. I was stuck in meetings—I couldn’t get away. She’s not picking up her phone.”
Silence. Then Katie’s tone turned grave. “She left the hospital around three. She mentioned wanting to tell you something in person. I haven’t heard from her since.”
My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear my own thoughts. “Right. Let me call her parents, see if she’s visiting them. Maybe she’s just… excited or—”
Before I could finish, Katie said, “Hang on, I’m adding Dr. Lee to the call. She might know more.”
Seconds later, Dr. Lee’s voice chimed in. “Flynn, first off—congrats. Cedar told me earlier about the baby—”
I cut in, my tone sharper than intended. “Dr. Lee, I need your help. Cedar isn’t home, and she’s not picking up her phone. Katie said she left the hospital hours ago?”
“She did,” Dr. Lee confirmed. “But her car was still in the parking lot when I left, around five. I didn’t think much of it—figured maybe you picked her up, or she had an issue with the car. You’re saying she never came home?”
My blood ran cold. “Nothing was wrong with her car this morning,” I muttered, voice shaking. “And I certainly didn’t pick her up. She’s just—gone.”
An uneasy hush stretched across the line, broken only by Katie’s anxious breath. “Check with her family,” Katie suggested quietly. “Maybe she visited them or your sister.”
“Will do,” I managed. “I’ll keep you posted.”
I ended the call and immediately tried Cedar’s parents. Her mother, Susan, answered, sounding relaxed at first—then alarmed when I explained. “No, Flynn,” she said, voice trembling, “she didn’t come by. Is everything okay? Should we—?”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I lied, forcing my tone to stay steady. “I’ll keep looking. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know the moment I find her.”
Hanging up, I phoned my sister, Heather. She picked up almost immediately. “Flynn, hey! Did you—?”
“Is Cedar with you?” I asked, swallowing a lump of panic.
“What? No… Are you telling me—”
“I think she’s missing Heather. She’s not answering her phone, and no one’s seen her since this afternoon.”
She let out a faint gasp. “Oh, my God—Flynn, have you called—”
I never heard the end of her sentence. Another call buzzed in, from a number I didn’t recognize. Heart pounding, I hung up on Heather and took the incoming call, praying it was Cedar.
“Hello?” I forced the word out past the tightness in my throat.
Rather than Cedar’s sweet voice, I heard the clipped tone of Detective Ralph. “Flynn, it’s Ralph. There’s been a breakthrough in your father’s case.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, frustration and worry colliding. “Detective, now isn’t the best time—”
He forged ahead. “We’ve identified your father’s murderer. It was your uncle, Will Jefferson.”
The world seemed to tilt. Will had—murdered—my father? My breath came in ragged bursts, and all at once, the pieces started clicking into a horrifying puzzle: Will had every reason to sabotage me and sabotage the company. Was he behind Cedar’s disappearance too?
I barely registered Detective Ralph continuing on the line, detailing evidence. My mind spun with images—my father lying helpless, Cedar missing, Will’s face contorted in some smug grin. I could feel my knees threaten to buckle, overwhelmed by dread and fury.
He killed my father. And now my wife—my pregnant wife—has vanished.
It was too much. Too large and terrible to process at once. Clinging to the phone like a lifeline, I drew a shaky breath, trying to steady the maelstrom inside my head.
One thing was crystal clear: I had to find Cedar. And if my uncle had anything to do with this, God help him—because I wouldn’t rest until I got my wife back and put an end to this nightmare.