He Laughed That He Could Always Marry Again Until He Found Her Wedding Ring on the Floor

Five months after Claire vanished, Marcus Vance walked into Grant’s office without knocking.

Grant looked up from his desk. He was a different man than he had been half a year ago. The arrogance and hard edge that had once defined him were gone. He wore a simple dark sweater, his face was leaner, and his eyes carried a permanent gravity of quiet sorrow.

"You found something," Grant said, standing up immediately.

Vance placed a full-color art catalog onto Grant's desk.

"An annual regional art showcase is taking place in Portland, Maine this weekend," Vance explained, tapping the glossy cover. "Our image-matching software picked up a piece submitted by an independent gallery called The Sea Glass Gallery, located in a small fishing hamlet called Heron Cove."

Grant grabbed the catalog, his hands trembling as he flipped to the flagged page.

There, printed on the high-gloss paper, was a photograph of an oil painting titled The Silence After the Storm.

The painting depicted a solitary woman standing on a rugged, wave-battered cliffside at sunrise. Her hand rested gently over her lower abdomen, and in the clouds above the ocean, the faint, translucent silhouette of a dove was woven into the morning mist. The brushwork was unmistakable. It possessed the exact same dynamic, soulful texture that had drawn Grant to Claire when they were broke twenty-year-olds in art school.

The artist was listed simply as: C. M. Thomas—Claire's maiden name.

Grant stared at the painting for five full minutes, his heart hammering against his chest.

"Heron Cove," Grant whispered. "Her grandmother's cottage. God... how did I not think of that?"

"Because you told her grandmother’s estate lawyer six years ago that the property was a worthless tax liability," Vance noted gently. "She knew you would never look there."

Grant looked up at the investigator. "Thank you, Marcus. Send me the final invoice today."

"What are you going to do, Mr. Mercer?" Vance asked. "If you march up there with a fleet of black SUVs and bodyguards, you’re going to scare her off again. A woman like that doesn't want to be ambushed."

"I know," Grant said quietly. "I'm going alone."

Daniel tried to stop him in the lobby. "Grant, the city council zoning vote is tomorrow! If you leave now, the entire Phase Two expansion could collapse!"

Grant stopped and looked at his longtime friend. For the first time in his career, Grant felt no anxiety, no hesitation, and no ambition for the concrete empire around him.

"Let it collapse, Daniel," Grant said with complete calmness. "Take the CEO title. Run the company however you see fit. Sell my shares if you have to. I don't care about Phase Two. I don't care about the towers."

"Then what do you care about?" Daniel asked, stunned.