The slam of the front door still echoed in my cars–the night everything shattered. The night Jane caught me cheating, tearing our world apart. I barely had a moment to breathe before my hand was already on my phone. “Michael.” My voice was a low rasp of panic as I stood there, naked in a bed that reeked of betrayal. “I need you now.
”
There was no hesitation on the other end. Just the soft rustle of motion. He never asked questions. That was one of the reasons I kept him around -discretion was his second nature.
“I’m on my way, Mr. Frank.”
I grabbed my pants off the floor and yanked them on with hands that wouldn’t stop trembling. Jane’s voice still rang in my ears. That single word–don’t–as raw and broken as everything we used to be. I tried calling her line, but she kept ignoring my calls.
Michael arrived in under ten minutes, like a ghost summoned by crisis. He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to. He already knew. The compound wasn’t that large, and with the way I’d shouted her name–shouted Jane- the whole house probably knew.
He found me seated on the edge of the bed, shirtless, my skin still slick with sweat–the kind that wasn’t from pleasure but from panic. My eyes were locked on the mirror ahead, but I wasn’t really looking. All I could see was her face, twisted in disbelief. A memory already calcifying into guilt.
Michael lingered by the door, his presence steady and silent. We didn’t
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need words. He’d pieced the story together the moment he heard footsteps storming away from the master suite. That was the thing about Michael- he paid attention.
“She went east,” I murmured, my voice stripped of emotion, barely audible over the quiet hum of the air conditioner.
I didn’t turn to look at him. I didn’t need to. He was already in position- alert, focused–like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
“She didn’t take her car,” I added, slower this time, as if the words were dragging themselves through a swamp of regret. “She must have flagged down a cab. I need to know where she goes. I need eyes on her.”
Michael didn’t flinch. No questions. No hesitation. Just that quiet nod- the kind that carried the weight of absolute loyalty.
“Keep your distance. She can’t feel it,” I said, tightening my jaw. “Discreet surveillance only.”
Another nod. A flicker of understanding. And then he was gone, the door closing behind him without a sound.
And with that, he was gone–already dialing) already moving, already blending into the quiet chaos I had created.
It took him only hours to confirm what I feared.
“She’s at The Musk,” he reported the next morning, standing near the grand bay windows of my office, the Manhattan skyline a blur behind him. “She’s staying in the executive wing.”
