CHAPTER 140: ROOM NO. 007

The call was abruptly ended. Claire quite couldn’t understand what was wrong with Damian. She sighed as she wiped the stain on her clothes when another knock came on the door.

"Ma’am," the waiter’s voice was more insistent now. "I just wanted to remind you about the room. It’s on this floor, just a few doors down. Please don’t hesitate to use it. You will feel much more comfortable once you have changed."

Claire clenched her jaw, her irritation mounting. "I said I am fine," she snapped, her patience wearing thin.

The waiter hesitated. "I understand, but the stain will set quickly, and I would hate for you to feel uncomfortable at the party. The room is prepared, and no one will disturb you there."

Claire glanced at the dark patch on her dress. It did look bad, and her discomfort was growing. She sighed, debating her options. Her phone buzzed again, and she quickly glanced at the message from Damian:

"Stay where you are. I am almost there. Don’t trust anyone until I arrive."

Claire’s stomach dropped. Something was wrong, and Damian’s message made it clear this wasn’t just her imagination.

Taking a deep breath, Claire stepped back from the door. "Thank you, but I will take care of it myself," she called out.

There was a pause, then the waiter’s voice returned, softer now. "As you wish, ma’am. I will be right outside if you need anything."

Claire’s grip on her phone tightened. Every instinct in her screamed to stay where she was. Damian had better show up soon. However, the way the waiter kept insisting on her using the room felt more ominous. Claire’s unease deepened, her instincts screaming that something was wrong. She decided she needed to leave as quickly as possible. She was afraid that the waiter might break into the washroom.

Claire gripped her clutch tightly as she stepped out of the washroom. Her eyes darted around, scanning for any sign of Damian, but he was still not there. She had just taken a few cautious steps toward the exit when she felt a sharp smack on the back of her neck.

Her vision blurred instantly, and a wave of darkness engulfed her. The last thing she heard was the muffled sound of footsteps before everything went black.

~ ~ ~ ~

Damian rushed into the washroom area, his expression tight with worry. "Claire!" he called out, but the only response was silence.

He checked every stall, every corner, but she was nowhere to be found. Panic clawed at his chest as he dialed her number again. The call went straight to voicemail.

"Damn it!" he hissed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Where the hell is she?"

He scanned the corridor; his sharp gaze looked around everywhere but saw no sign of Claire. He muttered under his breath, "I told her to stay here. Where did she disappear out of the blue?"

Moving quickly, Damian inspected the area and noticed something that made his stomach drop. There were no security cameras in this section of the venue.

"Fuck!" he spat, his voice low but filled with fury. "No cameras? How the hell am I supposed to find her now?"

The frustration and fear were almost overwhelming for Damian. He couldn’t afford to waste another second. He pulled his phone out again, and Damian immediately dialed Evander’s number.

The phone barely rang once before Evander picked up.

"What is it?" Evander’s sharp tone came through.

"She is gone!" Damian blurted, his voice taut with urgency. "Claire— she disappeared from the washroom area. I told her to stay here, but now she is nowhere, and there are no fucking cameras around!"

Evander’s tone turned deadly serious. "What do you mean she is gone? Did I not tell you to take care of her and keep her in sight?"

"How could you let her disappear?" Evander snapped. He almost yelled, scaring everyone in the meeting, but he didn’t bother. He was in the middle of the meeting, but he still took the call, knowing Damian was with Claire.

Evander waved his hands at the people and walked out of the meeting. He inhaled deeply. "Did you find anything suspicious?"

"No," Damian growled, pacing in frustration. "But something isn’t right. She felt uneasy earlier, and now this."

"I am coming there ASAP," Evander said, his voice cold and authoritative. "Stay there and search the surrounding areas." He hung up the call and left.

Within minutes, Evander arrived at the venue, his imposing presence concealed behind a sleek black mask. His movements were quick and deliberate, blending seamlessly into the crowd. He didn’t want to draw any attention that could jeopardize his plans—or Claire’s safety.

Evander spotted Damian near the washroom area, and he wasted no time. He stormed over and grabbed Damian by the collar, his sharp eyes burning with fury.

"Did you find anything?" Evander’s voice was low and dangerous, each word cutting like a blade. He tightened his grip, his rage barely contained. "Because if you didn’t, I swear I will punch the life out of you before I get to the bastard who dared to harm my wife!"

Damian held up his hands defensively, his own frustration evident. "I am doing everything I can! This area has no cameras, and I don’t know where she went. I jave been looking nonstop!"

"Not enough," Evander growled, his knuckles whitening as he fought the urge to unleash his fury.

"Boss, calm down!" a voice interrupted sharply.

It was Zaniel, who had just arrived. He had been following closely behind Evander, as he had sensed something was wrong during their last meeting. Now, hearing Evander’s words, his suspicions were confirmed.

"What’s going on here?" Zaniel asked, stepping between the two men. His sharp gaze flicked between Evander’s furious expression and Damian’s tense stance. "I have never seen you lose your cool like this, Boss! Calm down!"

Evander released Damian with a rough shove, taking a step back to compose himself. His jaw clenched as he spoke, his voice still brimming with controlled anger. "Claire’s missing. It’s my fault for not keeping her safe. I won’t let it slide. I will kill that person for sure!"

Zaniel’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing with determination. "Missing? How long has it been?"

"Not long," Damian said, his voice tight. "She left the washroom area, and then she was gone. No one saw anything, and there are no cameras here."

Zaniel took a deep breath, his mind already working through the possibilities. "Then we will need to start from the basics. Search the perimeter, question everyone subtly, and check for exits that don’t have security coverage. If someone planned this, they’ll slip up."

Evander nodded sharply, his anger simmering into a cold resolve. "Good. Start immediately. I will handle anyone who looks out of place."

Zaniel hesitated for a moment, then added, "And boss... don’t lose control. We need a clear head to bring her back without scandal!"

Evander’s eyes darkened, but he gave a curt nod. "Whoever touched her will regret it," he said, his voice as sharp as a knife.

Without another word, the three men fanned out, each taking a section of the venue. Evander’s mask hid his storm of emotions, but inside, his rage burned hotter than ever. Whoever had dared to lay a hand on Claire had just made the most dangerous mistake of their life.

Damian and Evander moved swiftly around the venue, their intensity palpable as they questioned all the staff they met. Damian’s nerves were on edge, the possibility of something unthinkable happening to Claire gnawing at him like a relentless storm. His heart pounded harder with each second of silence or uncertainty.

When they realized they were getting nowhere, Damian stormed toward the manager’s office, and Evander followed closely behind with an expression that could freeze a man in his tracks.

The manager, a middle-aged man who had clearly enjoyed the evening a little too much, stood nervously behind his desk. His hands trembled as Damian slammed the door shut behind them.

"Where is Claire?" Damian demanded, his voice sharp and commanding. "If you know something and don’t speak, I swear I will make you regret it."

The manager stuttered, his face paling. "Mr. Storme, I—I don’t know—"

"You don’t know?" Evander interrupted, his voice deadly calm. He stepped forward, towering over the manager, his dark eyes glinting with menace. "Do you really think I will buy that excuse? Speak. Now."

The manager swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Mr. Kensingtone, I am not sure, but..." He faltered, hesitating as he wrung his hands.

"Speak! Don’t stop!" Evander barked, his voice like a whip as he ran his hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. His clenched fists and taut posture made it clear he was seconds away from losing all patience.

The manager froze and nodded quickly. "A staff member—a waiter—he seemed... odd tonight. I noticed him acting weird earlier, but I didn’t think much of it."

"What do you mean by odd?" Damian snapped, stepping closer. "Details! Now!"

"He asked for access to one of the private rooms," the manager stammered, his voice shaky. "Said it was for a guest, but I didn’t think it would be a problem. I didn’t check who the key was given to. Please, I didn’t know!"

Evander’s jaw tightened, his glare piercing. "Which room?"

"Room 007," the manager answered, his voice barely a whisper.

Without another word, Evander turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, Damian hot on his heels.