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♬ ❝ I know it's too late for apologies, for all of the mistakes that I didn't see. The blame's on me  ❞ ♬

»»———— ★ ————««18 hours since summer break startedMonday - Monaco

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18 hours since summer break started
Monday - Monaco

I stared at my phone and at the messages that were left unread by Jasmine. Something felt off; why would she ignore me all of a sudden?

Ever since she left yesterday morning, I hadn't seen her, I hadn't heard from her. It was as if she completely vanished. Had she regretted it? Had I pushed her limits too much?

My gaze shifted to the building in front of me, the apartment complex of Jasmine. After she didn't pick up the phone last night, I called Carlos to ask if he knew something. I then learned Charles had already left for Monaco; it didn't take a genius to know Jasmine left with him.

As soon as I heard, I called my pilot. He was more than eager to immediately leave Belgium, muttering something along the lines of crazy family-in-law when I asked if he was sure. My jet was ready before seven in the morning, and we landed at the airport in Nice a little over an hour later.

I had to know what was happening, and with a deep sigh, I put my phone in my pocket and made my way over to the building. I greeted the woman in the little lobby and went directly to ring Jasmine's doorbell.

No one answered.

The knot that formed in my stomach ever since last night only tightened more. And I pushed her doorbell again. Yet once more, it remained unanswered.

Why was it that whenever I needed her, the ground floor door was closed, yet the other times, it had been open? I was about to give up when I saw someone leaving the elevators and walking toward the door.

I waited for him to open the door so I could go through them, muttering a greeting to the man leaving the building. And nervously, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. The suspense was nearly killing me, and I had to know what was happening.

My hands were shaking when I knocked on her door and waited. But yet again, no one answered.

"Jasmine?" I asked through the door, knocking again.

"She is not here."

I turned around to see an elderly woman looking through her door, "Do you know where she is?" I asked, to which the woman shrugged.

"Her brother is a racing driver; they went to Belgium this weekend, and Jasmine normally travels with him. I think they are still there."

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