Chapter 3 Silent Pursuit

Mike

The key turned, but the door didn't open.

Mike frowned, trying again. Nothing.

She had changed the locks.

A slow, cold fury crept into his chest. He stepped back, staring at the door like it had personally betrayed him. Lucy had never done this before. She always left the door unlocked when she expected him-hell, even when she didn't. This was new. And very intentional.

He pulled out his phone, opened their message thread. Empty. No explanation. No heads-up. Not even a fight to excuse this kind of silence.

Cape Town was her home. He had made sure of that-paid half her rent, kept her close, kept her in line. Now, it was like she'd vanished.

He didn't like being blindsided.

Without hesitation, Mike dialed a number tucked deep in his contacts. A government connection. The kind of man who didn't ask why.

The call was brief.

"She flew to Johannesburg. Three days ago," the voice said. "No new address yet."

Mike's grip tightened around his phone. Johannesburg?

She thought she could just run? Just disappear?

He didn't say a word as he ended the call, jaw clenched, mind racing. No one just left him. Not like this. Not her.

He stood there for a moment longer before turning away, his steps sharp and focused.

She was in Johannesburg. Which meant it was only a matter of time.

Mike leaned against the cold hallway wall, phone in hand, lips pressed into a tight line. He made another call-to someone who could pull phone records. Quietly.

"Get me the last numbers she contacted before she vanished," he said, voice low and sharp.

An hour later, the report came in.

Three numbers.

All linked to her workplace. A client line. Reception. And the office manager.

No personal numbers. No suspicious men. No hotel check-ins. Nothing he could grab onto.

He stared at the screen, frustration curdling into something darker. Either she wasn't talking to anyone... or she was smart enough to hide the trail.

But Lucy wasn't like that. She was scared of confrontation. Afraid to cross him.

So who's helping her now?

His mind raced through possibilities-friends, her sister, maybe someone at her job? Someone feeding her ideas? Encouraging her to leave?

His jaw tightened. That was more dangerous than any man she could've run off with. Someone giving her the courage to walk away.

He paced the hallway again, mind running wild.

She was in Johannesburg. He was sure of that much.

She could be with anyone. Saying anything. Rewriting the story of who he was. Making herself the victim.

He wouldn't let that stand.

He dialed his pilot without hesitation.

"Get the jet ready. I'm flying out tonight."

He didn't know where she was yet, but he'd be damned if he stayed here waiting.

The private jet touched down smoothly on the Johannesburg runway just before midnight. Mike didn't wait for the cabin doors to open before grabbing his phone.

He was already dialing as the wheels hit the tarmac.

"Get me a location check on Lucy Jacobs. I need her exact address."

The voice on the other end was calm but efficient. "She's at her parents' place-no sign of her elsewhere."

Mike's shoulders relaxed just a fraction. At least she wasn't hiding in some stranger's flat or who-knows-where.

But relief didn't last.

No.

What irritated him more was that she'd left without a single word. No message. No call. Just vanished like a thief in the night.

He gritted his teeth, pressing his lips tight.

"She's back under my roof soon enough," he muttered.

Outside, the city lights flickered, but Mike's mind was already racing ahead-toward the morning.

He wouldn't disturb her parents tonight.

Patience was a bitter pill, but a necessary one.

Mike stepped into his sleek Johannesburg apartment, the quiet hum of the city below contrasting sharply with the storm inside his mind. He tossed his bag onto the couch but didn't sit. Restlessness clawed at him.

He paced the floor, the luxury around him feeling cold and empty.

Sleep wasn't coming.

His thoughts kept circling Lucy-her silence, her sudden disappearance, the defiance in leaving without a word.

He checked his watch. Hours until dawn.

He finally sank into the leather armchair, fingers tapping impatiently on the armrest. He tried to focus on the city lights, the steady pulse of life outside his window, but his mind raced too fast.

Minutes felt like hours.

Then, finally, the first pale light of morning crept over the horizon.

---

The street was quiet as Mike pulled up in front of a modest house in a leafy Johannesburg suburb.

He stepped out, adjusting his jacket, his jaw set tight. The moment was heavy-no sudden confrontations tonight. Respect, or maybe strategy, kept him from just barging in.

He raised his hand and rang the doorbell.

Inside, Lucy's mother stirred from sleep, the sound pulling her to the door.

She opened it slowly.