Chapter 4

The Shadow Of Regret

It had been three weeks since Aria walked out of the gala, leaving him with the chilling echo of her final words and a stack of divorce papers that felt less like a ticking bomb. He stood on the living room balcony, a glass of cold amber whiskey in his hand. Aria had tried to soften the housing interiors, adding splashes of color with her own artwork and the plush, inviting colors she’d chosen as an interior designer. Now, those touches felt like painful reminders.

He looked at the vast view of the city he had conquered, and all he felt was emptiness. The divorce itself was a surprisingly swift affair that caught him off guard. Aria had been cold and silent, refusing to speak to him directly. Everything went through her lawyer, an iron-willed woman who treated Julian with barely disguised hatred.

He had signed the papers with a furious, scrawled signature, still believing, in the depths of his arrogance, that she would be back. "She just needed time to cool down," he’d told himself. "She loved me too much to stay away; she would be back after throwing her tantrums."

The truth, however, was evident in the empty closets and the lonely studio space that had been her favorite place. She had left no note, no forwarding address, no trace. Aria Thorne, the woman who had been there, reassuring and warm, had simply vanished into thin air.

“Sir, the terms for the Laurent deal are ready for your review.” Julian turned to see James Silver, his personal assistant, standing quietly in the doorway, always maintaining professionalism.

“Leave them, James,” Julian commanded, his voice rough and tired. He had barely slept in weeks. His focus, which was usually sharp, was now weak. Board meetings felt like meaningless gatherings. The Laurent deal, the very merger he had sacrificed his marriage for, felt suddenly insignificant to him. Was it even worth it?

James hesitated for a while, fine lines of worry etched on his forehead. “Mr. Vance, with all due respect, this is the deal. The one you… the one that was of utmost importance to you. If you don't sign tonight, the chairman of Laurent Corp is walking away, and he gave a deadline.”

Julian stared at the contract James placed on the glass table. It represented everything he had chased after, billions in assets; no one could challenge his dominance in the North American market; it was the final crown to his efforts.

He picked up the pen, but his hand trembled. He remembered the night he'd chosen a dinner with the Laurent CEO over a quiet romantic anniversary meal Aria had carefully planned. He had told her, coldly, that business came first. He hadn't just put his career before her; he had placed it above her because it was more important.

He threw the pen down and grunted, gently rubbing at his temples. “Let him walk away.”

James’s eyes widened in shock. “Sir?”

“I said, let the bastard walk away! The deal is dead, James. I don’t want it.” Julian slammed his hand on the table, the whiskey in his glass splashing. “Do you hear me? I sacrificed my wife, my home, for this worthless piece of paper, and now it is haunting me. I can't even have a good rest or sleep at night."

With that, he walked briskly to his bedroom as if being chased, shutting the door's latch behind him. The Laurent merger collapsed the next day. The news sent minor shockwaves through the market, baffling analysts who had long seen the merger as a done deal. Julian Vance, the ruthless CEO who never lost, had walked away from the biggest deal of his career without any explanation.

As the sun began to set, he returned to the penthouse, the silence even worse than usual. He walked into her former studio. It was spotless, scrubbed clean by the cleaning crew, but a faint scent of oil paint and mud lingered.

"Why are you doing this, Aria? What do you want?" He soliloquized.

“Julian,” a voice rattled from the doorway, breaking the silence. He scrambled to his feet, wiping his face with a swift motion. Clara stood at the doorway, hands akimbo.

"Darling, look at you," Clara said, her voice dripping with false concern. "You look like a wreck. Aria always was too fragile for a man like you. You need a woman who understands power, a woman who won't cry over a canceled dinner or even arrange one."

She glided into the room, her designer dress swishing with every sway of her hips. "That's for someone who is domesticated and has all the time for meaningless celebration." She clearly drawled at the word 'domesticated', her pointy nose scrunched up in disgust.

"Get out, Clara," Julian growled, his jaw clenching against each other.

"Now, now. Don't be rash," she purred, closing the distance. "I told you, Julian. We are two halves of the same orange. We belong together. Aria was always just a pretty wall painting that didn't fit the décor."

She reached out a hand, intending to stroke his cheek. Julian recoiled as if burned. “Don’t touch me, I am warning you. You were a means to an end, Clara. A business accessory. Nothing more. Now leave.”

Clara’s smile finally cracked, replaced by a flash of resentment. She stood tall. "You'll regret that, Julian. You’ll regret driving away the only woman who can truly stand by your side."

After she was gone, Julian stood alone again, the taste of her manipulation filling his mind. He called James back into his office the next morning. Julian looked different.

"James, I need a private investigator. The best. The kind who can find something untraceable." James nodded, professional as always, but his eyes held a quiet understanding.

"I need you to contact the top three agencies in the world. Tell them I don't care about cost. The full resources of Hiranthon are at their disposal. They are to find Aria Thorne. They will not stop until they have a confirmed location, a current address, bank records... everything."

Julian leaned forward, his hands balled into fists on his desk, his eyes burning with some kind of rage. “And James, tell them this: If they find her, and if anyone... any man... is within a fifty-foot radius of her, I want to know everything about him. I want his financial statements, his medical history, and his family tree. I want to know his favorite color and the name of his childhood dog... I want to know everything.”

He paused, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper that was far more scary than a shout. “Find her, James, because I will stop at nothing. Not my corporation, not my reputation, not my money. Find her. I don't know what she is up to, but whatever game she's playing, I hope she's ready for the outcome.”

The door suddenly barged open. "Julian, what did I hear happened to your wife?"