Chapter three

DAMIAN 

The house which was usually loud with staff moving about and Emmah’s soft humming from the garden, was totally quiet and the silence pressed in like a suffocating blanket.

Grandpa Richard’s jet just landed from his business trip which was wrapped up later than expected. He always rushed home for one reason, his daughter in law, Emmah. The only woman who reminded him of his late wife, kind, soft spoken, strong when necessary, and loyal to a fault. She was the only one who warmed the old man’s heart after years of loss.

As he walked into the house, his staff rushed to welcome him.

“Welcome back home, Sir Richard,” the butler bowed.

“Hmm,” he muttered, brushing past him. “Where’s my Emmah?”

The housemaids exchanged subtle, nervous glances, their heads quickly bowing in silence.

“Emmah dear?” he called out, this time stopping in the middle of the grand hallway.

There was silence.

His brows furrowed. That wasn’t normal. Emmah was always the first to greet him, offering him his favourite tea and asking about his health.

“Didn’t anyone hear me? I said, where is Emmah?” he barked.

Just then, Tasha, my girlfriend, tiptoed across the hallway with her head bowed, clutching her purse. Her pace quickened the moment she noticed Grandpa standing there. She tried to sneak past him, but his booming voice stopped her cold.

“Tasha.”

She froze.

“Where is Emmah?”

Tasha swallowed, unable to meet his eyes. “I... I don’t know, sir.” Then she hurried away.

Grandpa’s fists clenched. He turned sharply. “Damian! Damian! Get down here right now!”

From upstairs, I walked down slowly, my head bowed in guilt. My steps were heavy and deliberate. I had spent the last few hours wrecking my study room in a fit of rage and now faced the only man who could crush me with a single glance.

“Where is my daughter in law, Emmah?” he asked, though his voice was dangerously calm.

I said nothing, my head still bowed.

“WHERE IS YOUR WIFE?!”

I flinched, eyes shut. “Grandpa, she... she left.”

The sound of the slap echoed across the house.

My head turned sharply from the force, but I didn’t look up. My lips quivered but I didn’t dare speak unless told to.

Grandpa's chest heaved with anger. “Left? LEFT? A pregnant woman, your wife, left? And you just let her go?!”

I nodded slowly. “Grandfather, it wasn’t my fault. She...”

“Don’t you DARE make excuses!” Grandpa roared, eyes ablaze. “Do you even know what you’ve done?!”

I flinched again.

“If you don’t want to see me dead, go out there and bring your pregnant wife back home!” the old man thundered, turning away, his cane thudding angrily against the tiled floor as he made his way upstairs.

“Grandfather, please... don’t talk about dying,” Damian called after him, voice cracking.

Grandpa stopped halfway up the stairs, resting heavily on the rails. He had lost his son and daughter in law in a plane crash over a decade ago. That trauma had changed their lives. I was the only one he had left to carry on the family name, and now I was about to ruin it all by pushing away the one decent woman who truly loved me.

I stepped closer, tears filling my eyes. “Please, don’t say that. You’re all I have.”

He raised a hand, cutting me off without a word, and continued upstairs.

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

Later that night, Grandpa sat in his study, staring at the fireplace, a half finished glass of brandy in his hand. He looked weary. The photo of Emmah and I from our wedding day sat on the desk in front of him.

He picked up his phone and dialled Emmah’s number.

“The number you have dialled is currently unreachable. Please try again later.”

He sighed and tried again.

Same result.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.

“She wouldn’t just leave,” he whispered. “Not Emmah.”

Downstairs, I stood in the middle of the empty hallway, staring at the grand door she had walked out through. My fists clenched by my side as the image of those black, glossy cars escorting her haunted me. They gleamed with wealth and power, more power than I had.

I thought she was mine. My quiet wife, my obedient, poor Emmah. But that convoy... who were those people? What kind of power did she suddenly walk into?

My ego burned and I wanted to scream.

Wanted to find her and demand answers but more than that, I wanted her back. Because without Emmah, and with Grandpa furious, I was nothing.

The night deepened. And for the first time in years, the Richard mansion felt truly cold.