---- Chapter 9 Barron Carroll POV: | drove to our villa in Lake Como. The one | had promised to take her to. The one where we were supposed to start over. The entire drive, | called her phone. Over and over. It went straight to voicemail every time. | told myself she was just angry. That she had gone ahead without me to make a point. She would be there, waiting for me, furious but waiting. She had to be. The villa, a place that had once been my sanctuary, our sanctuary, felt cold and empty. | walked through the familiar rooms, calling her name. The silence was my only answer. | remembered the first time | brought her here, years ago. She had stood on the terrace, overlooking the water, her face filled with a childlike wonder. "It' s the most beautiful place |' ve ever seen," she had whispered. | had wrapped my arms around her from behind and replied, "The second most beautiful." The memory was a knife in my gut. | had been so sure she would be here. So sure that beneath her anger, she still needed me, still loved me. | had been a fool. My arrogance, my blind certainty that she was mine to ---- break and remold as | saw fit, had cost me everything. My focus on Cydney, on the debt, had been a colossal, catastrophic miscalculation. | had treated Emerson like a possession, a given, while | dealt with a past obligation. | had never imagined she would actually leave. The thought was so foreign, so impossible, it had never entered the realm of my reality. She was my wife. She was mine. | found the closet in our bedroom half-empty. Her favorite dresses, her shoes, the things | had bought her, were gone. But the new things, the extravagant jewelry and designer gowns | had sent over in the last few days as a pathetic attempt at an apology, were all untouched, still in their boxes. She hadn't wanted my gifts. She had wanted to be free of me. A wave of panic, so intense it made my vision swim, washed over me. She was really gone. | pulled out my phone, my hands shaking. | had placed a tracker in the lining of her favorite coat years ago. A precaution. A way to ensure her safety. A way to ensure she could never truly leave me. | activated it. A red dot blinked on the screen, a beacon of hope. My relief was so profound it was dizzying. She was in Zurich. | didn't know why, but it didn't matter. | could find her. | could get her back. Just as | was about to call my pilot, my phone rang. It was Cydney. ---- "Barron? Where are you?" Her voice was small and frightened. "I'm scared. Please come back." My patience snapped. "| am busy, Cydney," | said, my voice like ice. "Do not call me again unless it is a life-or-death emergency." | hung up before she could reply. | was done with her. Done with the debt. All that mattered was Emerson. | called my head of security. "| need a location on Emerson' s tracker. Now." There was a pause. "Sir... the tracker is offline." "What do you mean, offline?" | snarled. "The last known location was at a private airfield just outside the city. It went offline two hours ago. On the runway of a departing flight to Zurich." Zurich. The name clicked in my head, a missing puzzle piece sliding into place with sickening certainty. Keenan Sullivan. Her childhood friend. The tech security billionaire who had built his empire in Zurich. The man who had always looked at her with a quiet, protective adoration. The man | had warned her to stay away from. He had taken her. The thought of her with him, of him touching her, comforting her, was a white-hot poker in my gut. | had promised to ---- protect her, even from myself. And | had failed. | had driven her right into the arms of the one man | had always considered a rival. "Get me a jet," | commanded my security chief. "I'm going to Zurich. And find out everything you can about Keenan Sullivan's movements for the past 48 hours. | want to know where he is, who he's with, and what he had for breakfast. Everything." | stood on the empty terrace, the beautiful, serene lake mocking me with its calmness. | had been so focused on possessing her, | had forgotten to cherish her. | had treated her like a priceless statue, something to be owned and displayed, and | had been shocked when she had shattered. But she wasn't shattered. She was remade. And she was with him. The fight wasn't over. It had just begun. | would find her. | would tear her away from him. And | would remind her, and the world, that Emerson Keller belonged to Barron Carroll. And no one else. Title: A Princess? No! I'm the Female General! In "A Princess? No! I'm the Female General!" by CrushReel, Adela Taylor, a noble family's daughter, disguises herself as her brother to secure their Duke title by joining the army. 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