**The Billionaire Came Home After 3 Months Overseas And Broke Down When He Saw What His Daughter Was Forced To Do**
When the private jet touched down on the runway, Alexander Hale expected relief. Three months overseas—back-to-back negotiations in Singapore, emergency board meetings in Zurich, a surprise acquisition in Dubai—had drained him. He had closed billion-dollar deals on little sleep and colder coffee than he cared to admit. But the thought of home carried him through. Home meant quiet evenings, the familiar creak of the stairs, and most of all, his daughter.
What he did not imagine was breaking down in his own driveway.
The house looked the same from the outside. White stone, iron gates, the rose bushes she used to trim with her grandmother. But something felt wrong the moment he stepped inside. The air was heavier, quieter in a way that wasn’t peaceful. It was the silence of something held back.
“Lena?” he called out, dropping his keys on the console table.
No answer.
He climbed the stairs, each step echoing louder than it should have. Her bedroom door was open, but the room didn’t look like hers anymore. The posters were gone. The shelves were bare. Her desk was immaculate—too immaculate—like a place that had learned not to leave a trace.
He found her in the kitchen.
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