Julian'S POV
The villa gates swung open as I pulled in. Seraphine sat beside me, baby in her arms, smiling like she had just won the lottery. The kid was asleep, tiny fists curled against her chest. I had one arm full of sunflowers for Elara, the other cradling two bouquets of red roses for Seraphine.
“You bought too many,” Seraphine said in that soft, almost shy voice she liked to use with me. “Elara might think you are overcompensating.”
“She asked for a sunflower,” I said. “She’ll get sunflowers. You get the roses. Fair is fair.”
Seraphine’s cheeks flushed. “You’re spoiling me again. You know I don’t need flowers to be happy. Just… you.”
I pushed the door open and stepped into the villa. Quiet. Too quiet.
“Elara?” I called out, expecting her to appear from the kitchen or the stairs. No answer.
Seraphine followed me in, rocking the baby. “Maybe she’s sleeping?”
“She wouldn’t sleep this early.” I walked toward the living room and stopped dead.
The front door was ajar. On the frame sat an envelope. I set the flowers down on the console and picked it up.
“Throw this away,” I said, holding it out to the maid.
She took it, but her hand froze. Her voice wavered. “Mr. Whitmore… it’s… it’s a divorce paper.”
I turned. “What?”
Seraphine stepped forward, curiosity written all over her face. “Let me see.” She slid the papers from the envelope, flipping through them slowly. Then that soft little smile curved her lips. “It’s real. All it needs is your signature.”
“She’s bluffing,” I said flatly. “Trying to get a rise out of me.”
Seraphine tilted her head, swaying the baby lightly. “Maybe… or maybe she is tired of all this. I mean, she’s been through a lot lately. She’s blind, Julian. Maybe she just wants… peace.”
“She is not going anywhere without my say-so.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit her number. Straight to voicemail.
I called again. Same thing. Blocked.
I paced the living room, the marble under my shoes sharp and cold. “She has no right to leave without telling me. Without permission.”
Seraphine lowered herself onto the sofa, bouncing the baby with that fake maternal glow. “Maybe she’s gone for good.”
I shot her a look. “She’ll come back. She is nothing without me.”
Seraphine’s smile was sweet, almost sympathetic. “Of course. I’m sure she will.”
But for some reason, I saw something in her eyes. A glint.
And for the first time, I felt a flicker of unease.
--
The moment I stepped into my study, I pulled out my phone and called my head of security.
“Track Elara’s phone. Now.”
He didn’t waste time with questions. “Sir, her phone’s been off since morning.”
I stopped pacing. “Off?”
“Yes, sir. No signal.”
I rubbed my jaw, already moving to my desk. “Fine. Then check every airport, every train station, every bus terminal within a hundred miles. I want every passenger manifest reviewed. Get me answers.”
“Understood.”
Seraphine walked in, cradling Isolde, her voice soft and sweet like she was some angel sent to bless me. “Julian… maybe we should let her go for a while? She’s probably upset, and she needs to heal.”
I shot her a look. “Heal from what?”
She gave a tiny shrug, adjusting Isolde in her arms. “Well… maybe she found out. About… us. About Isolde.”
I leaned back in my chair, scoffing. “She doesn’t know. And even if she did, she wouldn’t last out there. She’s blind, Seraphine. No one’s going to help her. She has no job, no family worth mentioning, no money. Just a plain housewife. She’ll come back.”
Seraphine lowered her gaze, swaying Isolde gently, “Still… I don’t know. She might surprise you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You think I can’t handle my own wife?”
She lifted her head slowly, all big eyes and soft tone. “Of course not. You’re… you. I just mean, if she really wants to be gone, maybe forcing her back will only make her resent you more.”
I didn’t respond. I wasn’t about to debate strategy with her.
By nightfall, my men reported back with nothing. No sightings. No ticket purchases. No car rentals. No one at the station remembered seeing her.
I sat in my study with the divorce papers in front of me, the house quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock. My fingers curled around the edge of the papers until they crumpled.
She thinks she can walk away from me.
It’s just a phase.
She’ll come back.
She always does.
--
Elara'S POV
The air in Italy feels different. Lighter. Cleaner. Or maybe it’s just because I finally left everything behind. Rowan keeps a hand on my elbow as we walk through the quiet hospital corridor. The sound of our footsteps echoes. My fingers are cold, but it’s not from the weather.
We reach the reception desk. Papers slide across the counter.
“Just sign here, Miss,” the nurse says.
I take the pen.
