Virgin At 25-Chapter 88: WHEN THINGS GO PERFECTLY WRONG!

THIRD PERSON POV

At the conference, Victor Langley ended the call with Aec and set his phone down slowly on the table. The board members seated around him exchanged uncertain looks; they could tell something had shifted in his mood.

He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. His mind was elsewhere, on Ace’s voice, on what he’d just learned.

Beside him, Camilla Langley kept her calm, offering polite smiles to the investors in the room.

Victor finally turned to her and said quietly, "Come with me."

Camilla blinked once, surprised by the cold tone in his voice. Still, she kept her poise, rising from her seat.

"Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us," she said smoothly before following her husband out of the conference room.

The moment the door closed behind them, Victor stopped walking. His shoulders were tense, and his hand shot up as if to slap her. Camilla flinched slightly but didn’t back away.

He froze midway, his jaw tightening. His hand trembled before he slowly lowered it again.

"What was that, Victor?" she asked, her tone sharp. "What were you about to do?"

Victor’s glare was hard and cold. His voice came out low but filled with controlled anger.

"What did you do to Sharon?"

Camilla’s lips parted slightly, the surprise in her eyes genuine or maybe well-rehearsed.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don’t lie to me," he snapped, stepping closer until she had to tilt her chin up to meet his glare.

"You knew where she was this morning, didn’t you?" Victor spat out

"I don’t keep track of your son’s flings," she shot back, voice smooth but edged. "You’re overreacting."

Victor’s eyes darkened. "Overreacting?" he repeated, each syllable slow and deliberate.

"She’s missing, Camilla."

For the first time, the mask slipped. Camilla’s smile faltered, then returned, tighter this time.

"Maybe it’s for the best," she said quietly. "You’ve let Ace get carried away by a lowlife. She was beneath him, Victor. You know it."

Victor’s jaw clenched. "This isn’t your decision."

"No?" she countered, voice rising.

"You wouldn’t do anything about it, so I did! You’re too soft where he’s concerned, always trying to protect him, even from his own mistakes. That girl was going to drag his name, our name through the mud."

Victor took another step forward, the fury radiating off him.

"You think you can decide who’s worthy of this family?"

Camilla straightened, meeting his eyes defiantly. "Someone has to. You’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you... And for you to go after her too" she muttered low but loud enough for Victor to hear...

The silence that followed was thick, dangerous. Then Victor’s voice dropped to a whisper.

"Where is she?"

Camilla said nothing.

He moved closer again, his hand tightening around her wrist. "Camilla."

She met his stare, unflinching. "You won’t..."

He grabbed her throat. The motion was fast, controlled, but his rage made his grip tremble. She gasped, her hands coming up to clutch his arm.

"Where is she?" he demanded again, his voice raw.

Camilla struggled for breath, the color draining from her face. Her fingers clawed weakly at his wrist before she finally choked out, "Warehouse... the old shipping yard... by the east docks."

Victor’s hand released her instantly. She stumbled back against the wall, coughing.

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression no longer angry, just cold.

"Handle the conference," he said flatly, turning away.

Camilla pressed a hand to her neck, her voice hoarse. "Victor..."

But he was already walking down the corridor, his footsteps fading as he disappeared through the exit doors...

---

Victor sat back in the rear seat of the black Mercedes, his jaw still hard from the confrontation with Camila. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, gold streaks slicing through his reflection. He didn’t say a word for several minutes. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the rhythmic clicking of the turn signal.

The driver, a thick-shouldered man named Collins, one of Victor’s longest-serving guards, glanced into the rearview mirror.

"Sir..." His tone was cautious. "That silver sedan has been behind us since we left the hotel."

Victor’s eyes lifted slightly, catching the faint gleam of headlights in the mirror. Calm, cold, unbothered.

"It’s Ace," he said simply, voice like a knife dragged across stone.

Collins frowned. "You want me to lose him?"

Victor’s gaze lingered on the shadowy road ahead. Then he said, quietly, "Drive home."

"Yes, sir."

Without hesitation, Collins flicked the turn signal again and veered smoothly into the next lane. The sudden shift was clean, almost elegant. The car slid between two buses, tires whispering against the asphalt as the traffic swallowed them. A beat later, he turned down a side street, the city swallowing their trail.

In the mirror, the silver sedan slowed, boxed in by the buses then gone.

Victor’s hand rested on the headrest before him.

"When you get there," he said, his tone calm but absolute, "tell the others to move the girl. Get her out of the warehouse immediately. I’ll join them later."

Collins’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "Understood."

The car drifted back into the main road, as rain began to fall, light and steady, tapping softly against the windshield, beadlights cutting through the fog creeping over the city.

Victor Langley in the backseat looked like he’d been carved from stone, expression blank, but his eyes burned with something old, dangerous, and deliberate.

---

The rain came down harder, streaking across Aec’s windshield in restless sheets.

Ace’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, eyes fixed on the empty stretch of road ahead.

He’d been tailing his father’s car for nearly ten minutes, until it slipped through a junction and vanished between lanes.

By the time he cut across traffic, the black sedan was gone.

"Damn it!" he hissed, slamming his palm against the wheel. The echo filled the silence of the car, followed by the steady hiss of the rain.

He leaned back, trying to steady his breath, but his pulse was racing too fast.

Of course Victor knew. He always knew.

If he had changed routes, it wasn’t coincidence, it was strategy. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Ace reached for his phone, ready to call Zion again, but the call went straight to voicemail. Again.

He tried once more. Nothing.

"Zion, pick up the damn phone," he muttered under his breathe

He’d called Zion four times. No answer. Straight to voicemail.

"Damn it," he muttered, shoving his phone onto the dash.

He was just reaching for Chris’s number when another call came through.

Maxie.

He exhaled sharply and answered, "What is it?"

Her voice came out shaky, frantic.

"Ace, have you heard anything? About Sharon? I’m scared to death now...

Ace’s jaw dropped. Silence stretched.

"Ace?" she pressed, her voice breaking. "Do you know where she is?"

He stared ahead, rain sliding down the windshield.

"No," he said finally. His tone was low, tight, unreadable. "Not yet."

Maxie let out a trembling breath. "Not yet? What does that mean? We should call the police, someone has to..."

"Don’t," Ace cut in quietly.

"What?"

"Don’t call anyone yet," he said, his voice cold enough to silence her panic.

The line went quiet except for her unsteady breathing. Then the call clicked dead.

Ace let the phone drop into the passenger seat. The sound of the rain grew heavier, drumming against the car like a warning.

A moment later, the phone buzzed again.

Chris...

Ace snatched it up instantly. "What’s the update?"

Chris’s voice came through, breathless. "Boss, I traced the van. The one that took her."

Ace’s grip tightened. "Where?"

There was a pause. Then his reply

"It’s parked right outside your private apartment."

For a heartbeat, Ace didn’t move. Just the steady pulse of rain, the cold crawl of realization spreading through his chest.

"And Zion?" Aec asked, voice low.

"I’ve got no idea," Chris said. "He’s not answering any of our calls either."

Ace’s eyes darkened. He started the engine, tires splashing through the growing puddles.

"Stay where you are," he said. "I’m on my way."

The call ended, the phone tossed aside as he shifted gears. The car roared into motion, headlights slicing through the rain.

Behind him, thunder cracked across the skyline.