Damon’s POV
[Tomorrow at 10 AM, Natalie’s prenatal exam. You’ll accompany her. And get your lungs checked while you’re at it.]
No reply.
Not even a read receipt.
At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Sophia liked to ignore messages when she was upset. She always came back around.
But this time… the silence felt different.
---
The next morning, the clinic was quiet except for soft voices and the smell of antiseptic.
Natalie was clinging to my arm the moment we arrived.
“Damon, is everything okay? Is the baby fine?”
I nodded. “Doctor said everything’s stable. No issues from the fire.”
She exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for days. “Thank God…”
I should’ve felt relieved too.
Instead, my mind kept drifting.
Sophia’s face. That last look in the smoke-filled hallway. Not fear. Not anger.
Just acceptance.
Like she already knew I wouldn’t choose her.
And the worst part was—I hadn’t.
---
After lunch, I dropped Natalie back at the estate and went straight to the council hall.
My phone stayed silent the entire drive.
Too silent.
My beta caught up as I stepped inside.
“Sir, Chairman Morgan has returned. Summit starts tonight.”
I nodded without slowing down.
But something in my chest tightened.
Sophia still hadn’t been found.
No movement. No exit records. No sightings at the gates.
Nothing.
Like she’d simply stopped existing inside the system.
“She didn’t go to the clinic?” I asked.
“No, Sir.”
“Home?” I tried again.
“No.”
My jaw tightened. “Then where the hell is she?”
No one answered.
Because no one knew.
---
As I walked faster, I spoke over my shoulder, “Buy a few new designer pieces. Jewelry too.”
“For Mrs. Natalie?” my assistant asked.
I paused just long enough for the words to feel wrong.
“…Send them to the Sterling estate.”
If Sophia was anywhere, it would be there.
But even as I said it, something uneasy settled in my stomach.
And I hated that I couldn’t explain why.
---
A week passed.
Work. Meetings. Strategy reports. Border disputes.
Normal things.
Except nothing felt normal.
It was just after midnight when I returned from a long session with the patrol division.
The house was dark except for one light in the living room.
A figure curled on the sofa in silk.
For a second, my chest loosened.
“Sophia,” I said under my breath, almost amused. “I told you… I always come back. You don’t have to—”
I stopped.
It wasn’t her.
It was Natalie.
She looked up slowly, her face softening into disappointment when she saw me.
“Damon…” Her voice wavered. “She still hasn’t come back. Not even once.”
I exhaled and loosened my tie.
“She’s just being dramatic,” I said.
But it came out flatter than I intended.
Natalie sniffed, eyes glossy. “I even apologized. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me. Maybe I should leave.”
I sat beside her and kissed her forehead out of habit more than anything else.
“Don’t stress yourself,” I said quietly. “It’s not good for the baby.”
Then, after a pause, I added, “This is your home now. Yours and the child’s.”
A beat.
“…Whether Sophia likes it or not.”
The words should’ve felt final.
They didn’t.
---
Later that night, I stood alone on the terrace.
Cold air. City lights below. Silence everywhere else.
I lit a cigarette for the first time in years.
I wasn’t even sure why.
It didn’t calm me.
Nothing did.
My phone was in my hand before I realized it.
Sophia’s name sat at the bottom of my contacts.
Still there.
Still untouched.
My thumb hovered over the call button.
I didn’t press it.
Instead, I typed:
Tomorrow is Chairman Morgan’s 80th birthday. Don’t cause a scene. Don’t provoke Natalie or the child.
I stared at it for a moment before sending.
Waiting.
For what, I didn’t know.
The wind hit harder across the terrace.
My chest tightened again, sharp and unfamiliar.
It’s just stress, I told myself.
Nothing else.
