When Raymond stepped outside, Citrine was already gone.
He stared at the deserted street corner, and a sudden sharp pain seized his chest.
Gritting his teeth against the discomfort, Raymond pulled out his phone and dialed Citrine's number. The phone rang and rang, but no one picked up.
Anxious now, he called Adler instead; this time, the line connected almost immediately.
"Find out where Citrine went. She just left my father's place," Raymond blurted out before Adler could even greet him.
"Don't worry, President Carmichael, I'll look into it right away," Adler replied, concern evident in his tone.
Raymond forced himself through the pain and got into his car.
But the moment he started the engine, the ache in his chest grew sharper, nearly blinding him. His hands faltered on the wheel, and the car veered off course, slamming straight into a tree on the curb.
He managed to hit the brakes in time to avoid a worse crash.
Just then, Adler called back.
"She's alright, sir. She's at a bakery downtown—I'm sending you the address now."
Raymond glanced at the location Adler sent and finally let himself breathe. The pain in his chest eased, if only a little.
"Come pick me up at the family house," he instructed curtly.
Meanwhile, Citrine was sitting alone by the window in a quiet bakery.
It was late, and the place was nearly empty—her solitary figure stood out starkly against the empty tables and soft lamplight.
At this hour, the staff were preparing to close up. Sebastian, one of the employees, was about to leave when a fellow worker, still in his apron, hurried over.
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