Chapter 76: Anchor cut

Alessandro

Fine. If she wants a war of silence, I’ll give her an empire of it.

I stand by the window of the master bedroom, watching the taillights of her car disappear down the winding driveway. It is barely past five in the morning. The sky is a bruised purple, heavy with unfallen rain, mirroring the storm that has taken permanent residence in my chest. She leaves earlier and earlier these days, fleeing the house as if the very air here poisons her. Perhaps it does.

Or perhaps she simply cannot wait to get to him.

The image of her from yesterday burns behind my eyelids. Bianca, sitting in a café with Maxwell Blackwell. She wasn’t touching him, but the intimacy was there in the way she leaned in, the way her shoulders dropped their tension, the way she offered him a smile that she hasn’t given me in weeks. She claims they are just friends, that she needs someone to talk to who isn’t on my payroll. But every time she seeks solace in Blackwell’s company, she hammers another brick into the wall rising between us.

I turn away from the window and face the empty bed. The sheets on her side are barely wrinkled; she slept on the very edge, terrified of accidental contact.

I become ice. It is the only defense mechanism I have left. If I let the fire rage, I will burn the world down, starting with Maxwell Blackwell and ending with this house. So, I freeze.

I shower in scalding water that I cannot feel, dress in a suit that feels like armor, and descend the stairs. The house is a mausoleum. The staff moves in hushed tones, sensing the volatility radiating from me.

I speak to her only in necessities now. My voice is stripped of all warmth, a tactical instrument rather than a means of connection. I text her, refusing to call and hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Your obstetrician called to confirm the appointment. Ensure you eat before you go."

It is clinical. Cold. Safe.

Later, when I see her in the hallway as she returns for a forgotten file, I don't stop walking. I merely nod. "Salvatore will be your security detail today," I state, not breaking my stride. "Do not try to lose him."

I see the flinch. It’s microscopic, a slight tightening of her jaw, but I know her face better than my own hand. I see the strain wearing her down, the dark circles she tries to hide with concealer, the new fragility in her posture that makes her look like a glass statue teetering on a ledge. A part of me,the part that remembers how she feels in my arms, the part that worshiped her screams to go to her. To grab her, pull her against my chest, and demand she tell me why she trusts Blackwell’s soft platitudes over my protection. I want to fix this. I want to bleed for her so she doesn't have to hurt.

The betrayed, prideful part is louder. It roars over the instinct to nurture. She chose to believe a ghost over the man who stands in front of her.

She chose to take her fears to another man. Let her live with that choice. Let her feel the weight of the space where I was supposed to be.

I enter my study and slam the heavy oak door, sealing myself inside. This is my domain now. I build my fortress of paperwork, stock valuations, and territory disputes. I bury myself in the acquisition of land and the destruction of rivals, forcing my mind to focus on numbers rather than the dull ache in my chest.

I check the security logs. Salvatore is parked outside her office. She is safe, physically, emotionally, she is drifting out to sea and I am to blame, and I am the one who cut the anchor ruthlessly. I stare at the surveillance feed, watching the entrance of her building. Maxwell Blackwell arrives twenty minutes later.

My hand tightens around my fountain pen until the plastic casing cracks, ink bleeding onto my fingers like black blood.

I rule from this desk, a king of absolutely nothing. I have the power, the money, and the influence to bring the city to its knees, yet I cannot make my wife look at me without fear. I wipe the ink from my hand, the stain remaining in the grooves of my skin. I will not go to her. I will not chase. If she wants to be with her friend, she can have him. I will be here, in the cold, waiting for her to realize that fire burns, but ice preserves,and right now, preservation is the only thing keeping us from total destruction .