Inside the VIP ward of the family's private hospital, the chief of medicine was already drenched in cold sweat, pacing like a caged animal. The godfather's wife had vanished right under their noses and left behind an annulment agreement. If the godfather decided to hold someone accountable, the entire hospital would pay.
"What happened?" Samuel pushed through the door, and the temperature in the room plummeted. His gaze swept across the empty bed, and the chill radiating from him deepened.
The chief of medicine held out the signed annulment agreement with trembling hands, his head bowed so low his chin nearly touched his chest, unable to meet those glacial eyes. Samuel took the paper. His thumb traced the familiar handwriting, and for the first time, something close to panic stirred in his chest.
He pressed his fingers against his throbbing temples without a word, turned, and drove back to The Castle.
Everything inside the castle was exactly as it had been. The crystal chandeliers still blazed. The tea set sat on the dining table, uncollected. My dresses still hung in the walk-in closet. My jewelry box still rested on the vanity. Every trace of me remained, as if I had never left, as if nothing had changed. But the vast castle was hollow. The emptiness was suffocating.
He collapsed onto the leather sofa in the living room, his gaze fixed on the wedding portrait on the wall. In the photograph, we stood before the stained-glass windows of a cathedral, exchanging vows and rings. He wore a crisp suit; I wore a white gown. We looked like the perfect couple. But anyone who looked closely would have noticed it: the faint, stubborn sadness hiding in both our eyes.
Only now did he finally understand what that sadness had meant. Back then, his heart had belonged to Selene. He had married me out of guilt and obligation. And I had still been drowning in the grief of losing my mother, believing I'd found salvation, not knowing I was already stepping into an abyss.