(Elias's POV)
For a week, my security teams searched airports, five-star hotels, rented rooms, train stations, and back streets. We tracked every flight.
The black card I had left in her hospital room was monitored, and Aria’s photograph went to every surveillance contact in the state.
The card was never used.
I told myself she would run out of money and come back when her anger cooled. She had no family outside the Sterlings.
I had never bothered to ask about friends, savings, or any place she wanted to go.
On the eighth day, my head of security placed a thin file on my desk. In all his years working for me, he had never returned without an answer.
He remained standing and would not meet my eyes.
“We can’t find her, sir. Aria Lawson no longer exists.”
“Explain.”
“The identity wa
