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THE MILLIONAIRE FREEZES UP WHEN HE SEES THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT WEARING HIS DAUGHTER’S BRACELET...

The leather seat in first class felt like a prison cell, even at thirty thousand feet above the Colorado Rockies. Ethan Whitaker pressed his forehead against the cold airplane window, watching the jagged peaks disappear beneath a blanket of clouds. Another dead end. Another sleepless night in another faceless hotel room, chasing ghosts that never materialized.
Fifteen years. Fifteen goddamn years of following leads that went nowhere, hiring investigators who found nothing, and waking up every morning to the same crushing weight in his chest. Madison would be twenty-three now—if she was still alive. The thought hit him like it always did, a sucker punch to the gut that never got easier to take.
"Sir? Would you like some coffee?"
The voice pulled him from his spiral. Ethan turned to see a flight attendant standing in the aisle, her smile professional but warm. She was young—maybe Madison's age—with kind eyes and shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a neat bun. Something about her made him pause.