"Stop crying," Sterling Steele said, his voice surprisingly gentle, softening the harsh edges of his usual commanding tone. "Let's solve this together now. I'm doing this as your dad, not Sterling Steele."
Vesta's shoulders heaved with quiet sobs as she looked up, meeting her father's green eyes—the same shade as her own, vibrant and sharp even now, despite the tears that shimmered at their edges. The words caught her off guard. This was not the relentless business titan she knew; this was her father, the man who had steadied her throughout her childhood and teenage years. For the first time in days, a flicker of comfort sparked amid the storm inside her.
Rising slowly, Vesta wiped her eyes, her hands trembling slightly. Sterling stepped closer, his own usually flawless silver and red hair tousled from days of tension. He gestured gently toward the plush leather couch that dominated the corner of his expansive office—a symbol of power softened by warmth. Without another word, he guided her toward it.
The two of them sat in silence. The usual low hum of machines and distant conversations from the other wings of ChronoNexus headquarters seemed miles away. Here, the air was heavy and still, filled with memories and the silent weight of unspoken fears. Vesta wrapped her arms around herself, her fiery curls tangled and untamed, a vivid contrast against the cool black leather beneath her.
Sterling's gaze lingered on his daughter, an ache hidden behind his steely features. The clean lines of his suit were rumpled, a subtle sign that even the most disciplined men could falter when the walls came crashing down. Seraphina, Sterling's wife and Vesta's mother, sat just across the room, her usually composed demeanor cracked with worry. Her dark hair fell in glossy waves, framing a face etched with lines of fatigue and concern.
Suddenly, the door burst open, shattering the fragile calm. Seraphina whipped her head toward the interruption as Ace, Dash's secretary hurried in, breathless, clutching an envelope tightly like a lifeline. Her entrance was ungraceful, devoid of the usual protocol—no knocking, no waiting—only urgency.
"I'm sorry, this couldn't wait," she stammered, eyes wide, voice trembling. She held out the envelope toward Sterling, who took it without hesitation.
Sterling's fingers fumbled momentarily, the odd weight of the simple paper contradicting the gravity of its contents. He glanced at Seraphina, who nodded silently. Together, they broke the seal, each breath caught as unfolding the letter revealed its stark truth — Dash's resignation.
The shock hit them like a physical blow. Sterling's phone buzzed seconds later; an identical resignation email landed, marking the crescendo of an unfolding crisis.
Phones around the office began ringing, the sound echoing off chrome and glass walls. Heads of departments, anxious board members, key stakeholders — everyone reached out frantically, their voices layered with panic and confusion. The carefully constructed empire of ChronoNexus was trembling on its foundations.
Meanwhile, Vesta remained motionless on the couch, tears streaming freely now. Her heart felt raw, pounding painfully beneath her ribs. The man who had been her steadfast partner in this corporate world was slipping away, leaving behind voids impossible to fill. Her fiery red hair clung damply to her cheeks, mirroring the chaotic tangle of emotions that swirled inside her.
Sterling's gaze locked onto her, an unspoken apology resting between them. His pride — sharp and unyielding — was tangled with regret. He recognized, too late perhaps, the distance his ego and authority had placed between himself and Dash.
"I'm sorry, Vesta," Sterling whispered, the admission breaking free in shards, "I... I didn't see it until now."
Vesta shook her head, the sobs choking the words in her throat. "He... he didn't say anything to me," she murmured, voice cracking. "I thought... I thought we were a team."
Seraphina stood and crossed the room, kneeling beside her daughter. Her hands found Vesta's, squeezing gently. "Sometimes," Seraphina said softly, "people make choices we don't understand. But that doesn't mean you failed, sweetheart."
Outside the office, the world was unraveling in urgent calls and frantic meetings. But inside this spacious room, the raw wounds of loss, ego, and family intertwined.
Sterling ran a hand through his hair, eyes distant. "I pushed too hard," he admitted quietly. "I thought... I thought my way was the only way."
Vesta wiped her face again, voice barely audible. "Maybe he pushed away because he needed to be heard."
The room fell into a heavy silence. The plush leather couch now cradled two broken pieces of the family empire — father and daughter, bound by blood and business, fractured but not yet shattered.
As the cacophony of the office seeped back in, Vesta and Sterling remained seated, locked in their shared pain. Amidst the chaos of the company's collapse, a fragile understanding had been born — pride must be set aside, and healing could begin.
But for now, all they could do was sit—together, silent, and sorrowing.
Sterling and Seraphina stood in the center of the conference room, a sea of worry etched across their faces. The day had slipped through their fingers like sand, and still, Dash was nowhere to be found. Seraphina broke the silence first, her voice calm but determined.
"We can't just wait for him to come back, Sterling. We need to start looking—everywhere. Wherever he usually goes."
Sterling nodded, already opening the note on his mobile sent by Ace, Dash's devoted secretary. Ace had been invaluable, text-messaging locations where Dash might be, all of which were his usual haunts—the rooftop garden of ChronoNexus, the tiny coffee shop tucked below the old warehouse district, the quiet lakeside park just outside the city, and even the old manufacturing plant where Anchor Drive had first started.
Vesta had stopped crying, but the tightness in her chest hadn't loosened. She followed silently, her mind a turmoil of shock and sorrow, unable yet to fully grasp the reality of Dash's resignation—and disappearance. Her hands twitched nervously, fingers brushing the pendant around her neck, a small reassurance amid the chaos.
They visited each place in turn, Seraphina and Sterling scanning faces and calling out his name, while Vesta lingered at the edges, a shadow of herself. The coffee shop was closing as they arrived; the barista shook his head regretfully. The lakeside park was empty in the fading twilight; not a sign of Dash. At the old factory, the scent of rust and oil filled the air, but no Dash.
Hours passed. Streetlights flickered on one by one as the sky darkened. Fatigue began to weigh heavily on all of them. Finally, Seraphina looked at Sterling. "We can't keep Vesta out here like this. It's late. Let's take her home."
Sterling nodded reluctantly. "You're right."
They drove back to the sprawling Steele family mansion, a fortress of polished stone and immaculate lawns, nestled away from the city's noise. Vesta remained silent in the backseat, staring out the window as the world outside blurred. The vibrant young woman who had once commanded a room now seemed diminished, a quiet ghost.
Upon arriving, the familiar sight of the grand front door brought an unexpected jolt to Vesta's heart. Though exhausted, she hesitated before stepping inside—not quite ready to confront the house that had waited silently for her return.
Inside, they were greeted promptly by Mr. Finchley, the Steele family's proper butler. His thin lips curved into a slight smile, but his sharp eyes missed nothing. Standing behind him was Skip Sprocket, the eccentric chauffeur, who offered a nod and an odd wave, always known for his sage advice that often took unexpected turns.
Tidy Trixie and Polly Polish, the detail-obsessed maids who maintained the immaculate order of the mansion, appeared from around the corner, their expressions a mixture of concern and surprise upon seeing Vesta.
"Vesta? You look like you've seen a ghost," Tidy remarked, eyeing her disheveled hair and pale complexion. "Why do you look like a zombie?"
Vesta didn't answer. She moved past them, her footsteps echoing softly as she made her way to her room. The door creaked open, revealing the space left untouched for weeks. Everything was exactly as she had left it—her desk still tidy, the sheets on her bed smooth and unworn, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting gentle shadows on the walls.
Mr. Finchley appeared quietly behind her. "Sir Sterling instructed us to keep your room in perfect order," he said softly. "Tidy and Polly clean it daily, and Sir Sterling visits each morning to ensure it has been done properly. If not, you can be sure they hear about it."
Vesta let out a small, genuine smile, the warmth of that simple care breaking through the fog around her heart.
"I'll give you some time alone now," Finchley said gently, bowing slightly before leaving.
Alone at last, Vesta sank onto the edge of the bed, the weight of the day pressing down. Her thoughts spiraled—Dash's resignation, the frantic search, the silent fears lodged deep inside. The mansion was quiet now, and for the first time, she allowed the tears she had held at bay to fall freely.
Meanwhile, far from the relative calm of the mansion, Seraphina and Sterling were relentless, their search taking on a frantic urgency. They made calls, questioned contacts, and retraced steps with fevered intensity, unwilling to accept that Dash could simply vanish without a trace.
Back in the dimly lit room, Vesta's tears finally slowed, exhaustion pulling her toward sleep. She closed her eyes, the echoes of the day humming softly as Finchley's words lingered: care, attention, and the faintest spark of hope amidst the darkness.
Ace's message blinked on Sterling's phone, the last known location of Dash: his old neighborhood, known only to a few but etched in their memories—an area modest and unpretentious, centered around a small, weathered park. Seraphina peered through the car window as they arrived, taking in the quiet streets and worn-down homes, completely different from the gleaming high-rises of ChronoNexus.
"What is this place?" Seraphina asked quietly.
Sterling's jaw tightened, his voice low. "This is Dash's childhood."
The words hung between them. Seraphina's eyes widened, absorbing the stark contrast to the luxurious life they navigated daily. "You said so much to that kid before... called him greedy, and accused him of stealing Vesta's spot," she murmured with regret. "But look around—he literally worked his way up here. He's earned every scrap of where he is."
Sterling nodded toward the park where a few children played. "See those kids? They're bringing scrap from wealthier neighborhoods like ours. Dash probably did the same when he was their age. He didn't have it easy."
The weight of the past settled heavily on Seraphina, the sting of her harsh words replacing pride with guilt. "I was wrong to say those things."
"Turn left and then you'll see the park," Sterling said as they continued driving.
Just beyond a narrow lane, they spotted Dash sitting on an old bench in the park's center, flanked by two figures—one woman, who appeared middle-aged, and one man, roughly Dash's age. The trio's stillness in the fading light was almost surreal.
Sterling and Seraphina approached cautiously. The man spotted Sterling immediately and stood, striding forward. "Mr. Steele, I'm Ridge Bolt, Dash's older brother. This is our mother, Clover Bolt."
Seraphina stepped forward respectfully. "Can we talk to Dash?"
Clover's concern was palpable. "Mrs. Steele, something's wrong. He's barely responding—just sitting there staring into space. We came running when an old neighbor told us Dash was here like... like he was a ghost. He hasn't told us a thing."
Seraphina and Sterling exchanged a look before moving closer to Dash. Clover remained standing but worriedly watched.
"Ms. Bolt, please let us handle Dash first," Seraphina said gently. "He looks calm outwardly, but there's a storm inside."
Understanding, Clover nodded and stepped back.
Sterling crouched slightly to meet Dash's gaze and then, with controlled force, delivered a sharp slap to Dash's cheek. Ridge and Seraphina steadied Clover, who started forward but was held back by Ridge's firm hand.
Dash blinked, startled, then met Sterling's eyes, steady and unreadable.
Sterling's voice was tough but controlled. "So you were bothered by her liking you, by her calling you an enemy—even by her calling you a robot? Honestly, I never expected this from you, Dash. I admired your strength, the way you never ran from challenges. But today? You ran. You left everything you worked for behind. That's a disappointment."
He paused, voice softening. "I kept you here for a reason, not just to rile Vesta, but because I saw where you came from. You earned your place at Anchor Drive. You've got potential—but today you let it slip."
Sterling's gaze swept over Ridge and Clover.
"Look at them—they worked their hearts out to get here. Don't ruin their sacrifices. I'm giving you a week to think it over. I haven't accepted your resignation yet."
"What resignation?" Ridge asked sharply.
Seraphina stepped in and carefully explained the situation.
Ridge's expression softened. "Okay. I understand now, Mrs. Steele."
Clover stepped forward. "Dash is afraid... afraid things will go wrong and someone will suffer. He saw how much I suffered under Silas, and now he's scared for what's next."
Sterling nodded, exchanging a look with Seraphina.
"But life's about breaking cycles," Ridge said firmly. "He can't let harsh words stop him, no matter how painful."
Later, Sterling arranged for Dash to be driven home in the company car..
Back at the mansion, Seraphina and Sterling quietly entered Vesta's room. The soft breathing of her sleep was a balm to their weary souls. She lay peaceful, her tears from earlier worn away into serene innocence.
Seraphina gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Vesta's face and smiled softly. "She's so beautiful and serene when she sleeps... just like she was as a child."
Sterling nodded, voice thick with emotion. "Yes... just like then."