Roxanne was asleep when I got her back to the hospital.
She looked small on that big bed. Pale. Fragile. Like she might shatter if the lights were too bright. I sat beside her and held her hand, careful, gentle. Her skin was warm. Mine felt cold.
Even asleep, she was crying.
“David…” she murmured, barely audible. “Don’t leave me. I’m scared.”
My chest tightened. I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “I’m here. Rest. You’re safe.”
But my mind would not shut up.
The sea kept crashing in my head. Over and over. Isabella’s face right before she jumped.
I eased my hand out of Roxanne’s grip and stepped into the hallway. The moment the door closed, I called my assistant.
“Any news?” I asked.
There was a pause. Too long.
“Sir… we’re still searching. The waves are rough. It was dark. We added more boats, but—”
“Don’t stop,” I snapped. “She didn’t drown.”
I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Isabella can swim. She’s strong. She’s done this kind of thing before.”
And Ryle.
My jaw clenched.
“She didn’t jump to die,” I said, more to myself than him. “She jumped because Ryle was in the water. She was saving him. She always does that.”
The image burned behind my eyes. My father in law was shoving Ryle forward. The splash. Isabella not even hesitating before jumping in after him.
“She wouldn’t leave the boy,” I said. “She’s probably keeping him afloat somewhere. Looking for a way out.”
I hung up and stood there longer than I meant to. Snow was piling up outside the window. White. Silent. Cold.
...
The next morning, I made sure Roxanne was watched closely and drove home alone.
The house felt wrong the second I stepped inside.
Too quiet.
“Belle?” I called.
Nothing.
“Ryle?” My voice echoed back at me.
I walked faster. The living room looked normal at first. Furniture untouched. Her coat still hanging where she always left it. Shoes lined up neatly by the door.
Then I stopped.
The wall.
Empty.
Every photo was gone. Wedding photos. Family pictures. The ones with Ryle sitting between us, grinning with his missing teeth. The frames were still there. Clean. Bare.
My chest tightened hard.
I grabbed the servant. “Where are the photos?”
They hesitated. “A few days ago, sir. After Madam came back… she ordered all pictures with you and the young master burned. She watched them herself. She said none were to be kept.”
My ears rang.
Burned?