Love in the ER

CHAPTER 42

It had been a full week since Paris disappeared, and Oliver was losing his mind.

He had spent every waking moment trying to figure out where she was, who had taken her, and why she wasn't answering any of his calls or texts. He had gone to her apartment, spoken to her neighbors, and even tried reaching out to Matteo—though that had quickly turned into a tense argument rather than any real information.

After days of no word, Oliver finally filed a missing person's report with the police. He had been at the station every day, pushing them to find her, begging for any kind of lead. But nothing had come up. Paris was gone, and he had no idea where she was or if she was safe.

As the days dragged on, the worry gnawed at his soul. The sleepless nights, the constant anxiety—it was all beginning to take its toll. His mind replayed every moment from the last few months, wondering if her disappearance had anything to do with Denise or the fight they had. Guilt weighed heavily on him, making him wonder if she had run away because of him.

Every day at the hospital was unbearable. He could barely focus on his work, and seeing Clara, who seemed surprisingly calm amidst the chaos, made him feel even more uneasy. How could she not be freaking out?

Finally, after days of keeping his worries to himself, Oliver couldn't take it anymore. He confronted Clara as they walked out of the hospital one evening.

"Clara, I need to know the truth," Oliver said, his voice thick with frustration as he grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. "You've been acting like everything's fine, but Paris has been gone for a week. A week! She hasn't called, texted, nothing. What do you know? Where is she?"

Clara blinked, her face carefully neutral as she looked at him. She had prepared for this moment, knowing that Oliver would eventually come to her for answers. But Paris had called her the night she disappeared, explaining everything—about her uncle, the trust fund, the danger she was in. Paris had sworn her to secrecy, telling her that the fewer people who knew, the safer everyone would be.

Clara took a deep breath, playing her part. "I don't know where she is, Oliver."

"You expect me to believe that?" Oliver snapped, his eyes wild with worry. "You're her best friend, Clara. She would have told you if something was going on. Please, just tell me where she is. I need to know if she's okay."

Clara bit her lip, pretending to hesitate, but her mind was racing. She had to keep her promise to Paris. "I swear, Oliver. I don't know where she is. It's like she vanished. Maybe... maybe someone took her. I mean, what if she's been kidnapped?" She forced her voice to tremble slightly, adding a layer of uncertainty to her words. "I'm scared too. But I haven't heard from her."

Oliver's hands clenched into fists at his sides. The idea of Paris being kidnapped made his blood run cold. "Kidnapped? No, that can't be. There's no way."

Clara shrugged, playing into his worst fears. "I don't know, Oliver. But something's wrong, and I think we need to trust the police to figure it out. They'll find her."

Oliver's jaw tightened. "The police? They've done nothing. She's been gone for a week, and they have no leads. None." He paused, running a hand through his hair, his voice cracking. "I'm going crazy, Clara. I need to know she's safe. I need to find her."

Clara's heart ached for him. She could see how much he was struggling, but she had to stick to the plan. Paris had told her not to involve anyone—not yet. The fewer people knew, the better. Paris's uncle, Charles, was handling everything, and Clara had to trust that he would keep Paris safe.

"I know this is hard, Oliver," Clara said softly, her tone filled with sympathy. "But maybe she'll come back soon. Maybe she just needed time to clear her head. You know how much has been going on with... everything."

Oliver shook his head, his voice low. "This isn't just her clearing her head, Clara. Something is wrong. And I need to find out what it is."

Unbeknownst to Oliver, Charles, Paris's uncle, had already tipped off the police. His powerful connections had kept them off her trail, making sure that they didn't look too closely into Paris's disappearance. He wanted to keep her safe, hidden from the people who were after her. Paris was under his protection now, and he wasn't about to let anyone—including the police—jeopardize that.

Charles had made sure the investigation went cold, allowing Paris to stay at the hacienda, far away from the dangers lurking in the city. He had hired security, surrounded the estate with protection, and was using every resource at his disposal to keep her safe. He knew how desperate Oliver was to find her, but he couldn't risk exposing Paris until the threat was dealt with.

Oliver, meanwhile, was spiraling. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and every day without Paris felt like a lifetime. Matteo's presence didn't help—he knew Matteo had been trying to get closer to Paris, and the idea of Paris leaning on him during her absence made Oliver feel sick with jealousy and frustration.

Every time he saw Matteo at the hospital, it took all his willpower not to start another fight. Matteo was too calm, too put together. And every time Oliver saw him, he felt like Matteo knew more than he was letting on. But no matter how many questions Oliver asked, Matteo always deflected, leaving Oliver even more frustrated and on edge.

The uncertainty of it all was driving him mad.

One evening, after yet another fruitless visit to the police station, Oliver sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He couldn't stand the waiting, the not knowing. Paris was everything to him, and the thought of never seeing her again was more than he could bear.

"Where are you, Paris?" he whispered, his voice breaking as he leaned his head back against the seat, the weight of it all pressing down on him.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep it together. He wouldn't give up. He couldn't. No matter how long it took, no matter how far he had to go, he would find her. He had to. She was out there, somewhere, and he wouldn't stop until he brought her back.