On the run

James Hurt woke up with a start, He glanced at the empty spot beside him in bed, the covers smooth and untouched.

He sat up, his mind reeling. Clara was gone.

he jumped out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold marble floor.

"Clara!" he called out, his voice echoing through the penthouse.

When he received no response, he knew that something was wrong. He rushed to the closet, grabbed his phone and called his security team.

The security team arrived within minutes, their faces tense and serious.

James paced the room, his hands clenched into fists.

"She's gone," he said, his voice shaking with anger.

The security team launched into action, checking the security footage and scanning the building for any sign of Clara.

They searched the penthouse, turning over every corner and drawer.

James stood in the middle of the room, his mind racing. He couldn't believe that his wife had left him.

Hours passed, and there was still no sign of Clara. James' anger turned to worry, then to fear.

What if she was in danger? What if something had happened to her?

He knew that he couldn't sit around and wait. He had to find her.

He picked up the phone, dialing the number for his private detective.

"I need you to find my wife," he said, his voice clipped and urgent. "She disappeared this morning. I think she might be in danger."

The private detective arrived at the penthouse within the hour, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He was an older man, with a shock of gray hair and a sharp, intelligent gaze.

"Let's start at the beginning," he said, sitting down at the table. "What can you tell me about your wife's disappearance?"

James took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "She was gone when I woke up," he said. "The bed was untouched, and there was no sign of her anywhere in the penthouse."

The detective listened intently, taking notes as James spoke.

"We need to consider all possibilities," he said. "It's possible that she left of her own accord, or that she was taken against her will."

James nodded, his face pale with worry. "What should we do?" he asked.

"I'll start by checking the security footage," the detective said. "We can see if there was any unusual activity last night, or if she left the penthouse on her own."

James nodded, feeling a flicker of hope.

The detective leaned forward, his gaze steady and focused. "If we don't find anything on the security footage, we'll need to expand our search," he said. "We'll check with the neighbors, the doormen, anyone who might have seen or heard something. We'll also check her credit card records, to see if there's any sign of where she might have gone."

James nodded, feeling a sense of urgency building within him.

"Who would want to take her?" he asked, his voice trembling.

The detective leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful and assessing.

The detective spent the next few hours poring over the security footage, searching for any

sign of Clara's disappearance. But there was nothing. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.

Frustrated and desperate, the detective turned to the doormen and neighbors. But they, too, had seen nothing unusual. It was as if Clara had simply disappeared.

The detective returned to the penthouse, his face grim and serious.

"We have to consider the possibility that she was taken," he said, his voice low and grave.

James sank into a chair, his face pale and drawn. "Who would do this?" he asked, his voice hoarse with fear.

The detective shook his head. "There's no way to know for sure," he said. "But I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to find your wife."

James looked up at him, his eyes filled with gratitude and fear. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

The detective nodded. "We need to think like the people who took her," he said. "What do they want?

"They might want money," the detective said. "They want to ransom her back to you. They're probably watching you right now, waiting for the right moment to make their move."

James felt his heart race, his mind reeling with fear and panic.

"What do I do?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"We wait," the detective said. "We wait for them to make the first move. And when they do, we'll be ready."

James felt his mind swirl with confusion. How could he protect his wife from the people who had taken her?

The hours passed in a blur of tension and fear. James waited by the phone, his mind racing with possibilities.

Would the kidnappers call? Would they make a demand?

He felt like he was going to jump out of his skin.

Finally, the phone rang.

James jumped to his feet, his heart pounding.

"Hello?" he said, his voice trembling.

"We have your wife," a gravelly voice said. "And we want five million dollars for her safe return."

James felt his blood run cold. Five million dollars. It was a lot of money. But he had to save his wife.

"I'll pay," he said, his voice firm. "But I want proof that she's alive."

The voice on the other end of the line laughed. "You think we're amateurs? You'll get your proof when we get the money. Wire it to this account, and your wife will be returned to you."

James jotted down the account number, his hand shaking with fear and anger.

James hung up the phone, his mind racing. He had to get the money, and fast. But he didn't want to alert the authorities. He couldn't risk losing his wife.

He called his financial advisor, his voice tense and urgent.

"I need five million dollars," he said. "And I need it now."

The financial advisor was silent for a moment, then spoke. "I can transfer the money to the account you give me," he said. "But I have to ask, what's going on?"

James hesitated, then spoke.

"My wife has been taken," he said. "I have to pay a ransom to get her back."

The financial advisor was silent for a moment, then spoke. "I can't advise you to pay a ransom," he said. "It's not the best course of action."

But James was desperate. "I don't care about the money," he said. "I just want her back."

The financial advisor sighed. "I understand," he said. "I'll transfer the money right away.

The money was transferred to the kidnapper's account, and James waited.

But the hours dragged by, and there was no word from the kidnappers. He began to worry that something had gone wrong, that they had harmed his wife.

He paced the penthouse, his mind racing with panic, after some effort to reach the kidnappers, but to no avail, he became more worried. Just then, his phone beeps and it was a message from Mr kidnapper.

After reading the message, he realized that he was just duped of his money, and they didn't have his wife.