Chapter 7

Three weeks had passed since Elena’s departure.

Three entire weeks during which the mansion had changed more than it had in the previous four years.

Victoria was now living with Alexander in the same mansion.

Everything seemed perfect from the outside.

The luxurious furniture.

The servants.

The cars.

The security.

And the man who owned it all.

But one thing was no longer there.

Elena.

One morning, Alexander was sitting at the breakfast table while Victoria sat across from him, idly scrolling through her phone.

One of the maids placed a cup of coffee in front of her.

Victoria glanced at the cup, then raised her eyes sharply toward the maid.

"?Is this not the coffee I ordered"

The maid grew flustered.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll bring you another cup right away."

"Apparently, you don't listen very well."

Victoria said coldly, then shoved the cup away, spilling its contents over the poor maid.

Alexander watched the scene without comment.

But for a moment, his memory took him back to an earlier morning.

Elena had sat in that very same spot.

She knew exactly how he liked his coffee.

Sometimes, she would place his cup in front of him before he even asked for it.

She never needed to ask.

She knew him well, and she had never mistreated any of the servants. She had been especially kind to Aunt Halima, the elderly, gentle woman who supervised the household staff.

He returned to the present.

"Alexander, are you listening to me?" Victoria asked.

He raised his eyes to her.

"What?"

"I was talking about the party taking place next week."

"Do whatever you think is appropriate."

She furrowed her brows.

"You always say that."

He did not respond.

At that moment, another maid passed by them, carrying a small vase of flowers.

Victoria suddenly stopped her.

"Don't put that there."

The maid glanced at the spot.

"But Mrs. Elena always used to put the flowers there."

The moment Elena's name was mentioned, silence fell over the room.

Alexander looked up at the maid.

Victoria, however, replied coldly.

"Mrs. Elena is no longer here. I'm the one who decides how and where things are placed in this mansion, you stupid woman! Get out of my sight!"

The maid lowered her head.

"I'm sorry."

She hurried away.

Alexander continued staring at the spot where she had been standing.

Then he spoke quietly.

"Leave them."

Victoria looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

"The flowers."

"But they're not beautiful."

"I said, leave them."

She said nothing.

Alexander remained silent.

He did not know why the incident had bothered him.

Perhaps it was because Elena had loved placing flowers there.

Or perhaps it was because the mansion was beginning to lose the little things that had once made it feel like a home.

---

As the days passed, Alexander began noticing things he had never paid attention to before.

Victoria lost her temper easily.

She spoke to the servants condescendingly.

She hated being contradicted.

And she treated the mansion as though it belonged to her alone.

Every time something like that happened, he remembered Elena.

He remembered how she thanked the servants for even the smallest things.

How she helped one of the maids carry a heavy box instead of ordering her to do it.

And how she remembered everyone's names.

Even the elderly man who worked in the garden was someone she asked about every morning.

These were things he had never appreciated when she was right in front of him.

Only now was he beginning to see them.

One evening, Alexander was walking down the hallway when he heard Victoria's voice.

"I told you the room had to be ready before I arrived! Is that really so difficult?"

He stopped.

He did not enter.

He stood there for a few moments before returning to his office.

He sat behind his desk and leaned back in his chair.

He closed his eyes.

For the first time, Elena's image appeared clearly in his mind.

Her smile.

Her voice.

The way she spoke with such kindness and love.

He finally realized that he had lost his angel over a foolish fling.

He opened his eyes.

His expression remained unchanged.

Sharp.

Composed.

Showing no obvious emotion.

But his deep eyes held something else.

Something only someone who knew him well would notice.

Silent sorrow.

And a brokenness he refused to let show on his face.

---

Another week passed before Alexander made a decision.

He called one of his men.

"I want you in my office."

Less than an hour later, a man named Omar entered.

He was one of Alexander's most trusted men.

He stood before the desk.

"You asked to see me, sir."

Alexander raised his eyes to him.

"I want you to find Elena."

Omar's expression shifted slightly.

"Do we have any information about her whereabouts?"

"A little."

Alexander pushed a file toward him.

"Her full name, photographs, and every piece of information that might help you."

Omar opened the file.

"Are we looking for her only in New York?"

"Start here."

Alexander fell silent for a moment.

"And if you find nothing... search everywhere."

Omar closed the file and replied firmly.

"Understood."

Alexander looked up at him.

"I want results."

"You'll have them."

Omar left the office.

Within minutes, Alexander's men began their search.

Phone calls.

Inquiries.

Addresses.

Security cameras.

Travel records.

Every lead that might help them find Elena became the focus of an investigation.

But Elena had disappeared without leaving anything obvious behind.

---

A month passed.

Then another.

Still, there was no sign of her.

One night, Alexander entered his office and found Omar waiting for him.

He was holding the file.

He placed it on the desk.

"We found nothing."

Alexander raised his eyes to him.

"Search again."

"We've searched every likely location."

"Then search the unlikely ones."

Omar fell silent.

He knew these were no ordinary orders.

The man standing before him refused to accept that Elena had truly disappeared.

"Sir... it's been two months."

Alexander did not answer.

He looked at the file in front of him.

Inside was her photograph.

The same photograph he saw every time he opened the file.

He reached out and closed it.

"Keep searching."

Omar left.

Alexander remained alone.

He opened his desk drawer.

Elena's letter was still there.

He had never thrown it away.

He took it out and placed it in front of him.

He read the final line.

"Goodbye, Alexander."

He stared at it for a long time.

Then he closed his eyes.

He was no longer angry.

Nor was he as shocked as he had been at first.

What he felt now was something else.

Emptiness.

An emptiness he did not know how to fill.

After two months of searching, only one truth remained—the truth he had been refusing to acknowledge.

Perhaps he would never find her.

He lifted his head and looked out the window.

The lights of New York illuminated the streets below.

It was the same city where he had lived with her.

Yet now, it seemed utterly unfamiliar.

For the first time since her departure, he allowed himself to consider a possibility he had never wanted to face.

Perhaps their story really was over.

He lowered his eyes to the letter.

Then, in a faint voice, barely above a whisper, he asked,

"? Where are you, Elena"