Chapter 409

• In a sleek, high-rise office overlooking the city, Mayor Gideon Theron sat behind his polished desk, his sharp features tense with worry. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually neat hair had loosened strands falling across his forehead.
• His jacket lay draped over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up, tie slightly askew, as if he’d been pacing for hours. On the desk in front of him rested a nameplate: Gideon Theron.
• “Clara,” he called, his voice sharp but strained. “Have you heard anything from my daughter yet? Has she contacted us?”