One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 103: Chapter 103
You are reading One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband ---, Chapter 103: Chapter 103. Read more chapters of One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband ---.
Rain clung to the tarmac like sorrow that refused to dry.
Arielle stood under the steel-gray sky, the wind slicing through her coat as the private jet descended in the distance. Her eyes never left the runway. When the wheels kissed the ground, her grip on the umbrella didn’t loosen.
Mason Calloway stepped out minutes later, trench coat billowing. Damien’s childhood friend. Ex-military. Former security chief. A man built like stone, with a voice like thunder and a soul stitched in loyalty.
“Arielle,” he said by way of greeting, voice grave. “You called. I came.”
She didn’t waste a second.
“Elijah’s missing. He’s following Damien’s trail. I need you to help me find him.”
He nodded once. That was all.
Within hours, they were in Damien’s old safe room, piecing together flight manifests, encrypted messages, and subtle social media shadows.
“Elijah’s smart,” Mason said. “Too smart. Covered his tracks like a ghost. But he used one old alias.”
He tapped a laptop.
“A flight booked to Moldova. One stop before the border.”
Arielle exhaled.
“Pack light,” Mason said. “We move in three hours.”
The plane ride was silent.
Arielle stared out the window, hands trembling slightly in her lap.
“You still love Damien,” Mason said quietly.
“I never stopped,” she replied. “And now our son’s chasing his ghost. If I lose Elijah too...”
“You won’t.”
She turned to him, eyes brimming.
“Because if I do,” she whispered, “I won’t survive it a second time.”
Their first clue was a wire transfer from Elijah’s secondary account to an old contact of Damien’s—someone known only as The Raven.
Mason cursed under his breath. “Of all the bastards to contact...”
They followed the trail to an abandoned church turned data hub on the outskirts of Chișinău. There, a cloaked man handed them a torn page from a journal.
Elijah’s handwriting.
It read:
“He was here. I know it. I can feel him. Safehouse coordinates lead east. I’m close.”
By dawn, Arielle and Mason reached the place: a dilapidated farmhouse nestled among pine forests, far from any map.
The windows were broken. The silence was thick. They entered carefully.
Inside: canned food. A sleeping bag. A child’s photo—Elijah’s. A map with markings. Red dots. Circled cities.
And a fire still smoldering in the hearth.
“He was here,” Mason murmured. “Hours ago, at most.”
Arielle reached for the photo and held it to her chest.
“Then we’re close,” she whispered. “Don’t stop now.”
Outside, the wind picked up.
And far in the woods, a twig snapped.
Arielle stood under the steel-gray sky, the wind slicing through her coat as the private jet descended in the distance. Her eyes never left the runway. When the wheels kissed the ground, her grip on the umbrella didn’t loosen.
Mason Calloway stepped out minutes later, trench coat billowing. Damien’s childhood friend. Ex-military. Former security chief. A man built like stone, with a voice like thunder and a soul stitched in loyalty.
“Arielle,” he said by way of greeting, voice grave. “You called. I came.”
She didn’t waste a second.
“Elijah’s missing. He’s following Damien’s trail. I need you to help me find him.”
He nodded once. That was all.
Within hours, they were in Damien’s old safe room, piecing together flight manifests, encrypted messages, and subtle social media shadows.
“Elijah’s smart,” Mason said. “Too smart. Covered his tracks like a ghost. But he used one old alias.”
He tapped a laptop.
“A flight booked to Moldova. One stop before the border.”
Arielle exhaled.
“Pack light,” Mason said. “We move in three hours.”
The plane ride was silent.
Arielle stared out the window, hands trembling slightly in her lap.
“You still love Damien,” Mason said quietly.
“I never stopped,” she replied. “And now our son’s chasing his ghost. If I lose Elijah too...”
“You won’t.”
She turned to him, eyes brimming.
“Because if I do,” she whispered, “I won’t survive it a second time.”
Their first clue was a wire transfer from Elijah’s secondary account to an old contact of Damien’s—someone known only as The Raven.
Mason cursed under his breath. “Of all the bastards to contact...”
They followed the trail to an abandoned church turned data hub on the outskirts of Chișinău. There, a cloaked man handed them a torn page from a journal.
Elijah’s handwriting.
It read:
“He was here. I know it. I can feel him. Safehouse coordinates lead east. I’m close.”
By dawn, Arielle and Mason reached the place: a dilapidated farmhouse nestled among pine forests, far from any map.
The windows were broken. The silence was thick. They entered carefully.
Inside: canned food. A sleeping bag. A child’s photo—Elijah’s. A map with markings. Red dots. Circled cities.
And a fire still smoldering in the hearth.
“He was here,” Mason murmured. “Hours ago, at most.”
Arielle reached for the photo and held it to her chest.
“Then we’re close,” she whispered. “Don’t stop now.”
Outside, the wind picked up.
And far in the woods, a twig snapped.
End of One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- Chapter 103. Continue reading Chapter 104 or return to One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- book page.