Chapter 6

Elena’s pov

I stood in the living room after he walked away and tried to make my body move. The soft robe still hung around me. 

The new rings were still in my hand. The city lights outside the windows looked the same as they had an hour ago, but nothing else did.

Twenty minutes, he had said.

The number kept repeating in my head while I forced myself down the short hallway to the bedroom. 

The wedding dress was still hanging where I had left it, neat and careful, the way I had placed it when I thought the night was going to end differently. 

I stared at it for a long second. 

Then I opened the small bag I had brought earlier and pulled out the jeans and sweater I had packed without thinking, the ones I had imagined wearing the next morning for something ordinary. 

My hands shook while I changed. The robe slipped off my shoulders and fell to the floor. I left it there.

I took the rings off last. Both of them. The engagement ring first, then the wedding band. 

I set them on the dresser side by side and stepped back. Looking at them made the air harder to breathe, so I stopped looking. 

I picked up my clutch and the small bag and walked out of the bedroom without turning around again.

When I came back into the living room, Alexander was not there. The folder was gone from the table. 

The penthouse felt larger and colder than it had when we first stepped inside together. 

I stood in the middle of the open space for a moment and listened. Nothing. No movement from the other rooms. He had already decided the conversation was finished.

I checked the time on my phone. Twelve minutes left.

The elevator ride down was silent. I kept my eyes on the floor numbers and tried not to think about the side room, the way he had said Mrs. Voss like he was testing the shape of it, the ordinary mornings he had talked about wanting. 

Every one of those memories felt like they belonged to a different night, one that had ended before this one began.

The lobby was quiet at that hour. A man in a dark suit stood near the doors. He straightened when he saw me.

“Mrs. Voss?” he asked.

The name landed wrong in my chest. “Just Elena is fine.”

He nodded once, professional and careful. “The car is ready. Mr. Voss arranged a hotel for the night. I can take you there directly.”

I followed him outside. The night air was cool against my face after the controlled temperature of the penthouse. 

The car waited at the curb, engine already running. 

I slid into the back seat and the door closed with a soft, final sound.

We pulled away from the building. I watched the entrance grow smaller in the rear window until the driver turned a corner and it disappeared completely. 

I didn’t look back again.

I didn’t cry. I sat with my hands in my lap and stared at the passing streets, trying to understand how the same night could hold both the quiet hour in the side room and the moment he told me to leave. 

The two pieces refused to fit together. One of them had to be real. The other felt like something that had happened to someone else.

My phone buzzed once in the clutch. I pulled it out. A message from an unknown number with the hotel name and a confirmation code. No note from Alexander. No explanation. Nothing else.

I set the phone face down on the seat.

The driver spoke without turning around. “We’re about ten minutes out. Is there anything you need before we arrive?”

“No,” I said. “Thank you.”

He didn’t ask anything further. I was grateful for the silence. I didn’t trust my voice to hold if I had to keep using it.

When the car stopped in front of the hotel, I stepped out with the small bag and the clutch. 

The driver gave me a key packet and a short, practiced explanation about the room number and the elevators. 

I thanked him again and walked inside.

The lobby was bright and mostly empty. The woman at the desk glanced at the key packet, then at my face, and simply pointed me toward the elevators without unnecessary questions. 

I rode up alone. The hallway on my floor was quiet. I found the door, unlocked it, and stepped inside.

The room was standard, clean, and impersonal. A bed made with tight corners, a desk, a chair, a window that looked out over a different part of the city than the one I had seen from the penthouse. 

I set my bag down on the chair and locked the door behind me. The click of the lock sounded louder than it should have.

For a long minute I only stood there in the middle of the room, listening to the quiet. 

Then I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at my bare left hand. 

The skin where the rings had been still felt strange, a little lighter, a little wrong. I pressed my thumb against the empty spot and held it there.

I had walked into that penthouse as his wife a few hours ago.

I had left it alone before the night was even over.

The door had closed behind me, and there was no one on the other side waiting for me to come back. 

I sat with that fact until the first thin light of morning started to change the color of the sky outside the window.