So he doubled down. He stayed with Delilah, telling himself it was for the thrill, for the ego boost. When Delilah left to chase her dreams, he thought that chapter was over.
But then, somehow, he and Eleanor had drifted back together. They married. For a while, they were happy. She made him feel steady.
And still… when Delilah returned, he chose her again.
“Don’t tell me you actually care for her now,” Delilah said, breaking into his thoughts. Her gaze was sharp, searching his face. “Do you love her?”
The question froze him. He didn’t know what to say—didn’t want to know the answer himself.
“What?” she pressed. “Well? Do you?”
He forced a scoff, though the sound felt hollow. “Of course not. I’m just… worried because she’s dead. She’s—”
“Because she’s what?” Delilah pushed.
“She’s gone,” he finished quietly. “That’s all.”
But the words didn’t feel like the truth.
Before Delilah could press him further, the morgue door burst open. One of Nathaniel’s men rushed in, his face pale and breathless.
“Sir—” he started, then hesitated.
Nathaniel straightened, tension coiling in his gut. “What is it?”
“It’s Leo,” the man said, his voice trembling. “He’s… missing.”