Chapter 10
Seeing that flicker, Estelle doubled down. Her hand caressed his chest, her touch brazen and heated as she leaned forward, lips brushing his ear. Her other hand reached downward-
Suddenly, Callum catch her wrist.
His jaw clenched, eyes frosted with irritation.
“Who told you that stands for you?”
Estelle froze.
“That tattoo,” he said coldly, “is for Evelyn. Not about you.”
He shoved her aside, standing abruptly. Estelle tumbled to the floor, silk gown pooling around her as she scrambled to
grab his pant leg.
“Callum, please-don’t go! I’m not well. If you leave me now, I’ll have another breakdown. You wouldn’t want to see me hurt
myself, would you?”
A flicker of something passed through Callum’s eyes-guilt, maybe. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by a glare.
“I’ve already done more than enough, Estelle. I came back with you. I married you. I’ve given you every ounce of
compassion I have. Don’t push me.”
Estelle’s hands fell limply to her sides.
Of course.
This was Callum-untamed, untouchable. No one could bend his will, not even her.
Estelle’s grip loosened. Tears welled up in her eyes again. “I’m sorry, Callum,” she whispered.
Callum didn’t look back. He turned and strode out.
He drove straight to the estate.
But when he walked in, Evelyn was nowhere to be found.
“She’s still asleep?” he asked the Harlan, frowning.
“Yes, sir. It’s odd. Normally, she should be up by now to make breakfast for you.
Yes, that was true.
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Before, every time he woke up, she’d be in the kitchen-hair tied back, sleeves rolled up-cooking something warm and
comforting. Over time, she’d retrained his entire palate.
The house always smelled of ginger, garlic, and soy sauce. It made everything feel… alive.
He realized, suddenly, how long it had been since he’d tasted her cooking.
With a strange twist in his chest, Callum walked toward her room.
He knocked.
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And knocked.
And knocked-until the sound turned violent.
A terrible sense of unease rose in his gut. With a yell, he kicked the door open.
The room was empty.
No Evelyn. No suitcase. No sign of her at all.
He spun around, searching the room like a madman.
Gone.
The photos, the gifts, the expensive jewelry-everything he’d ever given her, every piece of evidence of their years together
-was gone.
He rushed into the master bedroom. Even their wedding portrait had been ripped from the wall and smashed into pieces
on the floor.
Just last night, she’d been right here. How had she disappeared without a trace?
A pulse of fury rose in his throat.
He turned on Harlan with a growl.
“Where is she?!”
Chapter 10
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Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.