Chapter 3

“She’s gone, Mr. Ashford. We’ve checked every airport, every hotel. There’s no record of an Elara Wynters anywhere.”

Noah’s voice was steady, but hesitant.

Liam stood before the wide glass window of his office, staring out at the rain-soaked city. From afar, the lights of tall buildings pierced the darkness, reflecting faintly off the cold glass.

In his hand, a glass of untouched whiskey gleamed under the dim light.

“Keep looking,” he said flatly.

Noah exhaled. “It’s been two months, sir. She… she really doesn’t want to be found.”

Liam closed his eyes.

Two months.

Two months without a word, without a message, without a trace.

Two months since the door had shut behind Elara—leaving behind an emptiness no one could fill.

“Leave,” he said quietly.

“Yes, sir.”

As the door clicked shut, Liam set his glass down hard, spilling amber liquid across the desk. He leaned forward, staring at the framed photo standing in the corner—

their wedding picture.

Elara smiled there, softly, purely—holding flowers, her eyes glimmering with the light that once made his world feel alive.

Now, that same light only burned like salt in an open wound.

The sound of heels clicking on marble broke the silence.

“Still staring at that photo again?”

The voice was gentle but sharp, threaded with quiet mockery.

Celine stepped inside, wearing a pale pink dress that looked painfully out of place in the somber room.

Liam didn’t turn around. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Celine smiled faintly, closing the door behind her. “It’s been months, Liam. How long are you going to keep torturing yourself over that woman?”

“Her name is Elara,” Liam said coldly.

Celine’s expression hardened. “I know. And I also know she’s gone. You need to stop living in the past. You have me now.”

Liam gave a humorless laugh and finally turned to face her. His eyes were bloodshot. “Have you? You think this is about having someone, Celine?”

He took a step closer, his voice low and seething.

> “You’ll never understand what I lost that night.”

Celine straightened, her chin lifting. “She left you, Liam.”

“No,” he hissed. “I destroyed her.”

Silence fell.

Celine stared at him—no pity in her eyes, only frustration. “Then live with it. You made your choice.”

She placed a hand on his chest, but he pushed it away without hesitation.

“Get out, Celine.”

His voice was calm, but the coldness in it was sharp enough to cut.

Celine’s face tightened, but she forced a brittle smile. “Fine. But remember—no one waits forever.”

Her perfume lingered in the air long after she left—too strong, too foreign.

When the door closed, Liam exhaled shakily. He grabbed the whiskey and drank deeply, the burn down his throat doing nothing to drown the ache in his chest.

---

That night, Liam sat alone in the dark living room. The television flickered silently in the corner.

The photo of Elara still sat on the table, facedown now. He couldn’t look at it anymore—

but couldn’t throw it away either.

His phone rang. Noah.

“Yes?”

“Sir, I just got a lead. There’s a chance Mrs. Elara left the country under a false name. But... there’s no solid proof yet.”

Liam paused for a few seconds. “Keep searching. Whatever it costs.”

“Yes, sir.”

The line disconnected.

Liam rubbed his temples, staring blankly at the wall.

His mind drifted to small, forgotten memories—Elara making breakfast, laughing at his poor cooking, gently scolding him for overworking.

“God, I was such a fool...” he muttered hoarsely.

He drank again, this time straight from the bottle.

The glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.

He looked around the once lively room—now silent, lifeless. Even the air felt heavy with grief.

Then the door burst open.

Celine stood there, anger flashing in her eyes.

“Liam, there you are! I’ve been looking for you!”

“Leave, Celine,” he said flatly.

“No! I won’t leave until you stop this. Do you think drowning yourself in whiskey every night will change anything?”

Liam rose to his feet, eyes dark and burning. “At least it keeps me from remembering what a disgusting man I’ve become!”

Celine froze—but Liam kept going, his voice breaking between fury and sorrow.

> “I walked away from the only person who ever truly loved me—for a lie I thought was love! And you... you’re just a replacement for something I’ll never have again!”

The sound of her slap cracked through the room.

Celine’s eyes filled with tears. “You’ll regret saying that.”

“It’s too late,” Liam whispered.

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Silence swallowed the room once more.

Liam stared at his reflection in the window.

A pale face. Empty eyes.

The image of a man who had everything—

and ruined it all himself.

He looked down at the nearly empty bottle in his hand.

“I lost everything,” he breathed. “And there’s no one to blame but me.”

Outside, the rain returned—soft at first, then heavy, drumming against the glass like a mournful song.

Liam walked to the table, where the photo of Elara lay facedown.

Slowly, he turned it over. Her smile met him again, breaking what was left of his resolve.

His trembling fingers brushed the edge of the frame.

> “If you can hear me, Elara... I want you to know—I was wrong. I was blind. I just... want you to come home.”