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.