Chapter 15: Echoes of the Vanished
The grand chandelier of the Wilson estate glittered above the guests, casting warm golden light across a sea of expensive gowns and sharp tuxedos. The business party had gone smoothly—another deal sealed, another notch in the success belt of the Wilson and Jones empires. Laughter bubbled like champagne in every corner.
But amidst the celebration, Sylvia Wilson stood still near the hallway, eyes darting across the crowd.
"Thomas," she called to her husband, voice tense. "Where's Ian?"
Thomas, deep in conversation with another executive, turned to her with a distracted frown. "Probably upstairs. He mentioned getting some air earlier."
She nodded, but something gnawed at her gut. It had been hours.
Across the city, at the Jones residence, Natalie Jones was pacing. Her daughter's room remained locked, untouched. "She didn't come back last night. Her bed's cold."
Michael glanced up from his tablet. "Maybe she stayed with Ian? It wouldn't be the first time."
"She didn't say anything. And her phone's here. That's unlike her."
But the days that followed brought no answers—only silence.
**
By the third day, concern turned into fear.
"They're not picking up calls. No messages. Their things are still here," Sylvia said to Thomas. "Their phones, wallets—even Ian's camera."
"And the driver said they never came out that night," Thomas added. "He waited until past midnight."
Michael slammed a palm on the table. "They didn't run away. Something happened."
It was Sylvia who had the idea. "Check the CCTV."
They pulled up footage from the main gates, parking lot, and rear exits of the estate. For hours, it was just guests leaving, staff cleaning up, security making rounds.
Then finally—at 12:47 a.m.—there they were.
Ian and Avrielle.
The grainy footage showed the two teens creeping through the garden gate, dressed in dark clothes. Backpacks slung on their shoulders. No phones. No fanfare. Just two shadows disappearing into the night.
Avrielle glanced behind once. Ian held her hand and pulled her forward.
"Zoom in!" Natalie shouted as they watched at the Jones residence.
The security manager enhanced the clip as much as he could, but it only confirmed what they feared.
"They planned this," Joseph said quietly. "They were trying to leave."
"Maybe for a few days," Sylvia added. "Maybe they needed air. But why no phones? Why leave so quietly?"
Natalie's hands were trembling. "They would have come back. Ian wouldn't just let her vanish into nowhere."
**
The families didn't waste another minute. Police were informed, but the media was kept in the dark. Their reputations couldn't withstand scandal or rumors—not yet.
A search party combed through the streets, hotels, train stations. Nothing. The teenagers had vanished without a trace.
**
It wasn't until the eighth day that a park ranger made a quiet call from the forest reserve near the city's outskirts.
"Couple kids were spotted on the edge of the jungle trail last week," he reported. "Locals mentioned seeing a girl with dark hair and a tall boy."
The Wilsons and Joneses were stunned. "The jungle? Why the hell would they go there?"
A new CCTV clip emerged—this one from a broken gas station camera on the jungle highway. It was blurry and glitchy, but it showed the silhouette of two young people walking near the woods.
It was the last known sighting.
**
Search parties went in.
For weeks, they scoured the dense foliage, trekked rivers, called out their names. Helicopters circled overhead. Drones buzzed through the canopy.
They found nothing.
No campfires. No torn clothes. No bones.
Just… nothing.
**
Months passed. The trails went cold.
The inspector spoke gently as he sat before both families. "We've exhausted every lead. With no further sightings or evidence, we can only assume…"
"No," Sylvia said, her voice hard. "You don't assume anything."
Michael sat quietly. Beside him, Natalie wiped her eyes with a silk handkerchief. "What are you saying?"
"We believe they entered the jungle and… didn't make it out," the inspector finished. "We are recommending a case closure with the status: presumed deceased."
Sylvia collapsed into Thomas' arms.
**
In the quiet weeks that followed, their rooms became mausoleums.
Ian's guitar remained untouched, a melody half-played. Avrielle's favorite books gathered dust, bookmarks still nestled halfway through their pages.
Their absence was heavy. Tangible. A constant ache.
Yet not a single photo of them was shared with the world. No missing posters. No press conferences. No hashtags.
It was all handled quietly.
Because the Wilson and Jones names were too big to fall. And if the world knew their children had disappeared without a trace, everything would crumble.
So the families buried the truth in silence.
But behind the quiet facades were broken parents, grieving in private.
**
One night, Sylvia sat in Ian's bed, whispering to the stillness.
"Wherever you are… please be safe, son."
And far away, under the dark canopy of jungle stars, Ian was holding Avrielle close, brushing her hair behind her ear as she rested her swollen belly against his side.
They didn't remember the world they left behind.
And the world… had almost forgotten them.