The Missing Heiress

The drive to Grace's preschool was surprisingly peaceful. This was the first time I would drive her there. Why was I feeling guilty now? It was Isla's fault. She had to come and point out how I was neglecting my daughter.

Other close people had in the past, especially Clara, but it never moved me into doing better. Grace sat in the back seat humming a song that was also getting stuck in my mind.

When we arrived at her school, I got the door for her. She plopped down and gave me a hug. Her little self barely reaching my knees. I rubbed my hands down her hair.

"Off you go, sweetie."

"Thank you." She said, looking up at me.

"For what?"

"Driving me to school." She smiled and hopped off. Some female teachers waved at me, almost drooling. Yeah, I had that effect on people. I carried a certain sexual appeal, which helped sometimes but can be really frustrating.

I watched my daughter until she disappeared through the school doors and tried to remember the last time I focused on her. I was a terrible father.

I adjusted my tie and proceeded to head to the office. I had work to do.

****

Getting to the office, Ethan was prepared, waiting at the elevator as usual. There was one goal on my mind today: to make progress on acquiring the Whitmore group.

As I sat at my desk, Ethan handed me what he knew I wanted.

"I was able to bribe my way to get this." He bragged.

"I don't think you should be telling me the illegal ways you got it." I raised an eyebrow and opened the file.

"No, I was just hoping to get reimbursed for it."

I threw him a ridiculous look. "Ethan, you get paid much more than anyone working for me, and you still find ways to squeeze out some more."

"Well, money is never enough." He winked and stepped to the side. "I took the liberty of going through the legal mumbo jumbo for you. It appears that truly Mr. Whitemore has no right whatsoever to sell or participate in the sale of the Whitmore group."

I tried to contain my anger. "So what you are saying is the past four years have been a waste of time?" I slammed the file on my desk.

"Not necessarily."

I sighed heavily; I didn't have the patience for his verbal theatrics, but I have learned one thing about Ethan over the years: he cannot be rushed.

"Only the heiress can sell to you, unless she is dead. There were a lot of clauses. Her father died when she was seventeen; if anything happens to her, the company is dissolved, and the proceeds go to a foundation. But if she is twenty-one, then she takes over the company, and she can decide whatever happens to it unless she is dead."

"Okay? So, since she is not dead, then get me in contact with her."

"We do not know that. I was able to snoop around; Miss Whitmore has not been seen for a couple of days."

"Her uncle told me she is on a trip."

"That's convenient, isn't it? She goes on a trip on her twenty-first birthday when she has the biggest decision of her life to make." Ethan questioned.

"Get Mr. Whitmore in here today. And find me pictures of this heiress; I will find her myself."

"Will do, sir."

*****

About three hours later, I was sitting across from Mr. Whitmore in the conference room. I do not want to believe the man sitting in front of me had the nerve to hurt his niece, but I have been a businessman for so long to understand that money can make people evil.

"I hear your niece is conveniently missing."

"I told you, she isn't missing. She is on a trip." He said, but somehow I could tell he was lying.

"Call her then. Put the phone on speakerphone." I suggested.

"I haven't been able to reach her."

"See, my assistant finds it odd that she went on this 'trip' right around when she turned twenty-one, the age her father says she would take charge of the company."

"This has nothing to do with you, Mr. Harrington. I wanted to sell to you, that's all. You have no business with what goes on in my family." He made to get up.

"You leave this room, and I will contact the authorities myself."

He stopped instantly, which confirmed to me that the girl wasn't safe.

"You say she is alright. Give me something—a video, picture, social media handle, or something to work with."

He stood staring at me silently.

"Is she dead?"

I saw his shoulders fall at my question. "I don't know."

"Great uncle you are. What has happened to her?"

"She ran off."

"Let me guess, she figured out your nefarious plans, which involved eventually killing her so you could have the proceeds of her inheritance to yourself."

Still no answer. "I told you the last time you were here that I would like to continue business with this heiress. That offer still stands, so you will hand me a picture to look for her with, discreetly for now. If I find her dead in a ditch somewhere, you are going to the authorities."

"What do you want?" he asked me.

"A picture of her, that's all before the end of the day."

That said, he walked out the door.

I thought about how this would turn out. If she was still alive, she may not want to sell. If she was dead, the company cannot be sold if her uncle is in jail.

I was torn between doing the right thing by human standards and by business standards.

If she would refuse to sell, I could ask for her hand in marriage instead. I knew that Whitmore Group was currently in debt; a young lady with no former business experience wouldn't be able to save it.

A marriage merger, you could call it.

Ethan came back into the conference room.

"I got the picture from Mr. Whitmore."

"Yes, send it to our PIs. They have twenty-four hours to find her.