Chapter 44

The door slammed shut behind Callum with a loud thud, echoing through the high-ceilinged hallway of the penthouse. He loosened the collar of his shirt, jaw clenched tight from hours of silent calculations and subtle warnings—more meetings, more maneuvering, more pieces to keep from crumbling.

But none of it mattered now.

Because Ariana wasn’t home.

He walked through the living room, expecting to hear her soft voice humming from the kitchen or the faint sound of a television show she’d gotten lost in. Instead, the place was silent—eerily so.

“Elena,” he called, already striding toward the kitchen.

The housekeeper appeared from the hallway, hands still dusted with flour from baking. Her face paled slightly when she saw the look in his eyes.

“Where is Ariana?”

Elena swallowed. “She went out for a walk, Mr. Callum. She needed air.”

His brows drew into a storm. “A walk? Alone?”

“She said she needed to feel like herself again,” Elena offered gently. “I didn’t think it was my place to stop her. I asked if she wanted a guard and she refused.”

Callum pulled out his phone immediately and dialed Ariana’s number. It rang. Once. Twice. Four times. No answer.

He pressed the phone to his ear again and growled under his breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“She didn’t want you to know. I thought she’d only be gone a few minutes—”

“She’s not just some houseguest, Elena. She’s my wife. She’s involved now. And there are eyes everywhere.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed, softer this time. “She could’ve been followed. Or photographed.”

“She just needed space,” Elena murmured, guilt lining her voice.

Callum didn’t reply. His mind raced through possibilities—had she gone somewhere familiar? Was she spiraling? Or worse, trying to run?

Then his phone buzzed in his hand.

Ariana.

He answered immediately. “Where are you?”

“I’m… I’m coming home now,” her voice was calm, but something in it tugged at him. She sounded pensive. Quiet.

Callum hung up without pressing further, forcing himself to pace the room instead of jumping into the elevator and going after her.

Fifteen minutes later, he heard the code beep on the penthouse door.

Ariana stepped in, wind-tousled and glowing with faint sunlight. She paused when she saw him in the center of the room, tension radiating off his frame.

“Hi,” she said carefully.

He didn’t speak right away. He crossed the distance in a few long strides, then stopped just before her. His hands stayed at his sides, not touching her, but barely resisting the urge.

“You can’t disappear like that,” he said, voice lower than usual, tight with restraint.

“I didn’t disappear,” she replied, setting her coat down. “I just… needed some air.”

“I understand that. I do. But you should’ve told me. You shouldn’t have gone out alone.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why? Because someone might see me?”

“Yes,” he said, eyes locking onto hers. “Because someone might be watching. Because I’ve worked too hard to protect you from this world for you to step into it blindly.”

She didn’t flinch, but her voice grew firm. “Callum, I’m already in your world. Everyone knows my name. They know our faces. There are headlines with us in them, threats I hear you whisper about behind closed doors—and yet no one will tell me the truth.”

He exhaled slowly, as if trying to tame his frustration into something softer.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she continued. “But I went somewhere that felt safe to me. That coffee shop where we met. I just… needed to remember who I was before all of this.”

His expression shifted then, the edges of his anger folding into something else. A small, haunted smile.

“You remembered me seating there looking so sexy and almost taking your croissant?” Callum smirked.

She cracked a smile despite herself. “That was mine. You never even paid.”

“I’ll buy you a thousand more,” he murmured.

She tilted her head, studying him. “Why didn’t you want me to know what’s really going on?”

“Because I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

He finally stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because you’re the only real thing in my life right now that hasn’t been stained by blood or greed or politics. You were light… and I needed that more than I ever knew.”

Her eyes softened, the anger bleeding from them as something heavier, more vulnerable, took root.

“I’m not made of glass,” she whispered.

“No,” he said, “you’re made of fire. But that doesn’t mean I want you to burn for me.”

There was a long pause, a charged silence that hung between them like a fragile bridge.

Then Ariana stepped forward, laying her palm against his chest.

“I just want to know, Callum. I don’t care how dark it is. I want to stand beside you, not behind you.”

His hand came up slowly, closing over hers.

“I’ll tell you.” he said, voice soft. “But not all at once. It’s not safe—not yet. But I promise, Ariana, I will never lie to you that’s for sure.”

She nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting it linger. “Next time… leave a note. Or at least answer your damn phone.”

She smiled against his chest. “Deal.”