Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 162

Chapter 162

David’s POV

“Mr. Tyrone… Teddy’s voice trailed off as she took in the scene.

“Oops. Sorry. I’ll come back,” she quickly apologized, though herrone was dripping with mock-regret.

She was already halfway back out the door, a knowing smirk forming on her face as her eyes danced between us.

“Stay right where you are, Teddy,” I said, my voice tight. I stepped back, letting Daphne go.

She looked like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her her face returning to that brilliant shade of red I that I have come to love.

“I was just… the water…” Daphne stammered, gesturing wildly at the wet patch on the floor.

“It’s fine,” I said, clearing my throat and straightening my damp shirt.

I looked at Teddy, who was standing at the threshold now, her amusement barely contained.

“What is it?”

Teddy’s expression shifted, the playfulness vanishing. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

“There’s someone here to see you. She’s been sitting in the lobby for an hour. She wouldn’t take no for an answer”

My brows furrowed. “Who?”

“She says her name is Sarah White,” Teddy replied.

I searched my memory but the name didn’t ring any bells. I had never seen the face that belonged to that name.

“Let her in.”

Daphne moved to the side, busying herself with picking up the fallen glass, her movements quick and self-conscious. A moment later, a woman entered.

She looked exhausted, her hair slightly disheveled and her eyes rimmed with red. She clutched a ‘make-believe designer handbag like a life preserver.

“Mr. Tyrone,” she began, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry to barge in like this. I know you’re busy.”

“I know you from…?” I asked, my voice cautious.

“I’m Sarah. I’m Fiona Macron’s personal assistant,” she said, her words coming out in a rush.

“I came to you because… I haven’t heard from her in almost four days. I didn’t know where else to go.”

My attention snapped into focus, I narrowed my eyes, the wetness of my shirt forgotten.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her for four days? Fiona isn’t the type to go off the grid without telling someone. especially not her staff.”

Sarah nodded, her movements small and frantic.

“I’ve checked everywhere. Her apartment, her favorite spots, her parents’ house. No one has seen her. The last time I saw her was at the studio. I had come in to tell her that she had a confirmed meeting with Alina Kuznetsova. Miss Fiona was so

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Chapter 162

excited about it. It was going to be her big comeback.”

She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself.

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“The day wound down, and she told me to leave early, just as she was going home for the day. But, when I left the building. her car was still in the lot. I didn’t think anything of it. I thought maybe she’d gone to the little restaurant that idles by our studio, or maybe she was just inside waiting for someone. However, the next day… her car was still in the exact same position. It hadn’t moved an inch.”

“Maybe it broke down?” Daphne suggested from the corner, her voice soft and concerned.

“I thought so too,” Sarah said, looking at Daphne.

“But when I tried to call her, her phone went straight to voicemail. Then, after a few hours, the line wasn’t reachable at all. It’s been four days. Miss Fiona wouldn’t miss a meeting with Kuznetsova. Not for anything. Something happened to her.”

I felt a dark sensation settle in the pit of my stomach. Fiona Macron was a lot of things-manipulative, insecure, and often cruel-but she was also a woman who lived for her career.

She wouldn’t vanish on the cusp of a major investment.

There were two possibilities, and neither of them were good. Either my grandfather had finally decided to use her as a pawn to get to Aaron and Jessica, or the Walters were looking for someone to blame for their ruined reputation.

Or, of course, there was the third option: Fiona had never truly changed, and this was some elaborate, desperate tactic to draw our attention back to her.

But four days? And leaving her car at the studio? That felt too messy for a calculated disappearance.

“Did you notice anyone hanging around the studio?” I asked, walking over to the window and looking out at the city skyline. “Anyone following her?”

“No,” Sarah whispered. “But the streetlights on that block have been out for a week. It’s dark out there at night.”

I turned back to the room. My eyes darkened as I processed the information. If Fiona had been taken, the circle was closing.

My grandfather had already threatened my life at the estate; it wasn’t a stretch to think he’d start picking off the people associated with Aaron’s past to find a lead.

“Teddy,” I called, my voice dropping into a cold, command tone.

“Get our security lead on the phone. I want the surveillance footage from the blocks surrounding Fiona’s studio for the last ninety-six hours. I want to know every vehicle that passed that lot.”

“Yes, sir,” Teddy said, turning to leave.

Daphne stood off to the side, her amber eyes wide as she took in the scene.

She looked startled, her grip tightening on her laptop as she realized she had stumbled into the middle of something far beyond an office memo.

She didn’t look like she knew whether to speak or run for the door.

“I… should I leave, Mr. Tyrone?” she asked, her voice small and hesitant. “I don’t think I’m supposed to hear any of this.”

I didn’t look at her, my mind already racing through the implications of Fiona’s disappearance.

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