All Chapters of The Perfect Wife Walked Away: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

[Alice 's POV]The air in the grand ballroom was thick with the scent of lilies and chilled, expensive champagne. It was a world away from the sterile silence of the lab, a shimmering bubble of old-world wealth that felt like a fever dream.Endall stayed at my side, his hand hovering near the small of my back, guiding my wheelchair through the sea of silk and tuxedos. He had swapped his lab coat for a tailored black suit that screamed Swiss precision. Every few feet, a titan of industry or a Nobel laureate would stop him, and he would introduce me with a quiet pride that made my cheeks flush."You're doing great, Alice," he whispered, leaning down as we navigated toward the terrace. "Just a few more power players, then we can vanish."I forced a smile, but my mind was five thousand miles away. The glitter of the chandeliers couldn't distract me from the hollow ache in my chest. I hadn't heard a word from Adam since the night he’d practically carried me into the OR. I wondered if he wa

[Alice’s POV]The ballroom was a shimmering cage of gold leaf and crystal, but I felt like I was suffocating. We had stayed a little longer.I sat in my wheelchair, my fingers knotting together in my lap. To the world, I was a guest of honor — a brilliant researcher at a world-class institute. To myself, I was a ghost haunting my own life.Endall stayed close, his presence a steady, quiet anchor. He didn't hover, but he made sure he was always there if the crowd became too thick, too cloying. He could tell my mind was miles away, drifting back to the man who had risked everything to pull me out of the wreckage that was my life.Adam.My eyes kept drifting toward him. He was standing near the grand stage, the center of a swirling vortex of billionaire investors and European royalty. He looked different in a tuxedo — sharper, more dangerous, his ‘Old Money’ heritage clinging to him like a second skin.I chewed the inside of my cheek. I hadn't heard from him since the night he’d practica

[David’s POV]The penthouse felt like a mausoleum. It was too quiet, too clean, and far too empty. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the Manhattan skyline, but all I saw was the reflection of a man I didn't recognize.No tie, my shirt unbuttoned at the collar, unshaven and in need of a haircut. A glass of neat bourbon sat untouched on the mahogany desk, sweating a ring into the wood. I didn’t care about the furniture. I didn’t care about the empire.Alice was gone."Nothing?" I asked.Harrison, my head of security, stood in the doorway. This man had extracted executives from war zones; he could find a ghost if the price was right. But tonight, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else."The trail is cold, sir," Harrison said. "She didn't just walk out of the hospital. She was erased. The security footage for that entire wing from 2:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m.? Corrupted. The exit logs? Manual overrides. Whoever moved her, knew exactly where the blind spots were."I s

[Alice’s POV]The Swiss morning was a postcard of perfection — crisp air, a sky so blue it looked painted, and the distant, rhythmic chime of cowbells echoing across the valley. But as I sat in my wheelchair on the veranda, watching the mist lift off Lake Zurich, the beauty felt like a thin veneer over a very deep, very dark crack.Endall organized a ‘sightseeing day.’ It was a diplomatic necessity, playing host to the man who had just handed the Institute a billion-dollar lifeline. But as the black SUV returned to the villa, I knew this wasn't going to be a relaxing tour.Marie jumped out of the car the moment it stopped. She was a whirlwind of energy, dressed in ivory cashmere, looking like she had stepped off a fashion runway."Alice!" She rushed over to me with a radiant smile. She didn't just greet me; she enveloped me in the scent of expensive citrus and genuine warmth. "Look at this day! Didn't I tell you the mountain air would be magic? You look so much better than you did at

[Alice’s POV]The soup smelled of rich bone broth and thyme, a scent that would have made my mouth water six months ago. Now, it just turned my stomach. I sat at the mahogany table in the villa’s sunroom, the light of the Swiss afternoon pouring in."Drink it, Alice," Endall said from the other end of the table. He wasn’t eating. He was watching me with the intensity of a hawk. "Greta spent three hours simmering those bones. You need the collagen. You need the calories."I lifted the spoon, my hand trembling just enough to splash a drop of broth onto the white tablecloth. I looked like a ghost of my former self. My skin, once glowing from the use of expensive moisturizers and a happy life, was now parchment-thin, stretched tight over a framework of sharp bones. My wrists looked like brittle twigs, ready to snap at any moment."I'm trying," I whispered. The spoon clattered against the bowl."You are wasting away," Endall said, with some urgency. "The tumor is a parasite. It takes what