*CHAPTER 5**

Adrian stood very still, the papers in his hand.

She had actually left.

She hadn't cried or begged. She hadn't called him in tears. Elena had signed her name, packed a suitcase, and walked out of the house like she was leaving a hotel.

He read the note again.

*Please sign yours.*

Something hot rose in his chest. It was not sadness. He told himself that quickly. It was anger. Nobody in the Blackwood family had ever asked for a divorce first. And now a quiet woman, who had not raised her voice once in five years, had done it.

He had told her to leave. He had said it in the heat of the moment, because he wanted her to stop looking at him with those hopeful eyes. He never thought she would really do it.

He dropped the papers on the bed and went to the wardrobe. One side was almost empty. The hangers were pushed together. At the back, he saw a small black box.

It was the bracelet. She had left it behind.

Adrian looked at it for a long time. Then he shut the wardrobe.

"She'll be back by tomorrow," he said out loud. "She has nowhere to go."

He did not believe it.

There was a soft knock. Mrs. Carter stood in the doorway with her hands folded.

"Sir, dinner is ready."

"Where did she go?"

"I don't know, sir. She didn't say."

"Did she take her phone? Her car?"

"Only a suitcase, sir. She took a taxi."

Adrian pressed two fingers against his forehead. A divorce, right now, was the worst thing that could happen. If news got out that Adrian Blackwood's wife had left him, people would start asking questions. The board would ask. His mother would ask. And this month, he could not afford any questions.

It was not about Elena. It was about timing.

He told himself that again.

"Mrs. Carter. Don't tell my mother she's gone."

"Sir—"

"Not a word. Understood?"

She lowered her head. "Yes, sir."

When she left, he took out his phone and called his assistant.

"Marcus. Find my wife. Tonight. Check the airports, the train stations, the bus terminals, every hotel near the university. And do it quietly."

"Yes, sir. Is something wrong?"

"Just find her."

He hung up. The phone buzzed in his hand right away. *Sophia.* He stared at her name, then answered.

"Adrian? Are you okay? Aunt Victoria said you were acting strange."

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

"I said I'm fine." His voice came out sharper than he meant. He took a breath. "I'll call you tomorrow."

He ended the call and sat on the edge of the bed. The room was very quiet. For the first time in five years, he could hear the clock ticking.

\*\*\*

Elena sat on a narrow bed in a cheap guesthouse near the bus station.

The room smelled like old soap. The curtain was thin and orange. A truck went by outside and the window shook a little.

She looked at her phone. No calls. No messages.

Of course not.

A small, foolish part of her had still hoped. She put the phone face down on the blanket and rubbed her eyes.

Then she remembered something.

Two years ago, one of the maids had stolen a watch from the house. By lunchtime, Adrian knew where she lived, who her brother was, and what bus she had taken. Elena had stood in the hallway and watched it happen.

*He can find anyone he wants,* she thought. *The only question is whether he wants to.*

She wasn't sure he would want to. But she was not going to take the chance.

If Adrian looked for her, she wanted him to find nothing. Not because she was afraid of him. Because the moment he found her, he would have a say in what happened next. He would pull his strings, and the divorce would drag on for years. And she would go back to being a woman waiting at a door.

No. She had waited long enough.

Elena took the SIM card out of her phone. She bent it between her fingers until it snapped. Then she wrapped the pieces in tissue and put them in her pocket.

Her scholarship letter said the master's classes were held at the Westbrook College of Fine Arts, four hours away by bus. Nobody in Adrian's world had ever heard of it. She had only been to the main campus to register. Westbrook would be a fresh start.

She lay down in her clothes and didn't sleep.

\*\*\*

At five in the morning, the bus station was cold and half empty.

Elena kept her scarf up over her hair. Her suitcase wheels clicked loudly on the stone floor, and she wished they wouldn't. At a small kiosk near the entrance, she paid cash for a cheap new phone and a SIM card. The man behind the counter didn't even look at her.

She dropped the broken pieces of the old SIM into a bin on her way out. Then she walked toward the ticket office.

She stopped.

A black car was parked at the front doors. It was the long kind with tinted windows. She knew that car. She had ridden in it a hundred times.

A man in a dark suit stood next to the ticket window. He was holding up a photo and talking to the seller.

The photo was her.

It was from their wedding day. She was smiling in it. She had been so happy.

Elena's heart began to pound. *That was fast. He's really looking.*

She didn't think. She turned around and pulled her suitcase behind a pillar. A woman with a sleeping child gave her a strange look. Elena smiled weakly and pressed herself against the cold stone.

*Don't look this way. Please don't look this way.*

Through the gap, she saw the man put the photo away. The ticket seller shook his head. The man spoke into a phone, then walked toward the platforms.

Elena did not wait. She grabbed her suitcase and went out through a side door into the back lot. Rows of old minibuses stood in the grey light, their engines running.

A driver was leaning against one, eating a bun.

"Westbrook?" she asked.

He looked at her suitcase. "Leaving in five minutes. Cash only."

"That's fine."

She climbed in and sat at the very back, next to the window. She slid down in the seat until her head was below the glass.

A minute passed. Two. She couldn't stop shaking.

Then the bus gave a heavy jerk, and the station slid away behind them.

Elena sat up slowly.

The sky was turning pink over the rooftops. Soon the buildings grew smaller, then thinner, then turned to fields. She watched the city disappear and waited to feel scared or sad.

What she felt was something else.

*I did it.*

She had walked out of her own marriage and no one had stopped her.

She leaned her head on the cold glass. "Don't look for me, Adrian," she whispered. "You didn't look for five years. Don't start now."

Her new phone was warm in her hand. She remembered the admissions office at Westbrook, which would be expecting her. She typed a short message to the number on her letter.

*This is Elena Hart. This is my new number. I'm arriving today.*

She pressed send and put the phone back in her bag.

The bus rolled on. The sun came up. After a while, her eyes began to close.

Then the phone buzzed.

Elena sat up.

She thought it would be the admissions office, saying thank you. But the number on the screen wasn't theirs. She didn't know it at all.

She opened the message with a cold feeling in her stomach.

*Good morning, Elena Hart. Westbrook is beautiful this time of year. I've been waiting for you.*

She read it twice.

The phone was only two hours old. She had given this number to exactly one place in the whole world.

So who had gotten it from them?