Collins sat at the dimly lit bar, fingers drumming against his glass of whiskey. His mind was a storm_Cynthia had disappeared without a trace. No calls, no texts, nothing. He had visited her apartment, only to find it empty. The landlord mentioned she had moved out in a rush. That wasn't like Cynthia.
He took a slow sip, his jaw tightening. Something was off.
Collins cursed and slammed his drink on the counter. This wasn't just a breakup. This was something deeper.
Meanwhile, across town…
Mike Richard leaned back in his leather chair, scrolling through his phone with mild amusement. His lips curled as he remembered how he heard her call someone else “babe” while she still called him “sir.”
He had seen “Collins” number flash on the screen multiple times. That poor bastard had no idea
