Chapter 183

Chapter 183
Ryan's POV

The first Sunday after Lily left, I woke up at 6:15 AM out of pure habit. For a moment—just one blissful, confused moment—I forgot. I reached across the bed expecting to find her there, my hand finding only cold sheets instead of the warm curve of her hip.

Then I remembered.

She was gone. Back to Denver. Back to her apartment, her job, her life that didn't include me except for the court-mandated nine hours, three days a week when she drove up here to see William.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, my chest tight with something that felt like drowning. The house was too quiet. During her pregnancy, even when she was sleeping, there had been presence—the sound of her breathing, the weight of her beside me, the knowledge that she was here. Now there was nothing but the hollow echo of expensive architecture and the distant movements of staff who were paid to pretend everything was normal.

It's fine, I told myself, forcing my body upright. It's just like before. Like when she was pregnant and staying here, and I was in Denver during the week. We were apart then too. This is the same thing.

Except it wasn't. Then, I'd known she was waiting for me. Then, there had been Friday nights when I'd drive up and find her in the East Wing, her face lighting up when she saw me. Then, we'd been married.

Now we were just two people sharing custody of a child.

I showered, dressed in one of my suits—navy today, like armor—and went downstairs. The breakfast table was set for one. Alfred had laid out my usual: black coffee, whole grain toast, a perfectly sectioned grapefruit. Everything in its place. Everything exactly as it should be.

Everything wrong.

"Good morning, Mr. Carter," Alfred said, his voice carefully neutral. "Will you be returning this evening, or—"

"I'll be back Friday," I said, the words automatic. Like I was still living in the pregnancy routine. Like Lily would be here when I returned. "Late afternoon. Around eight."

Alfred's expression didn't change, but I saw the flicker of something in his eyes. Pity, maybe. Or concern. "Very good, sir. I'll make sure everything is prepared."

For what? I wanted to ask. For whom?

But I just nodded and drank my coffee. It was too hot and burned my tongue, but I welcomed the pain. It was something to focus on that wasn't the emptiness.

The drive to Denver took three hours. I'd made this drive hundreds of times over the past few months, but today it felt different. Before, I'd been driving away from Lily, counting down the days until I could return. Now I was driving away from William, and there was no Lily waiting at either end.

My phone sat in the cupholder, screen dark. No text from her. No photo of William doing something adorable. No "drive safe" or "miss you already" or any of the small intimacies that had sustained me through the separation of her third trimester.

Just silence.

It's fine, I told myself again. She's probably busy with work. Getting settled back into her routine. She'll text later.

But I knew she wouldn't. The divorce papers were signed. The custody agreement was in effect. We were done.

I turned on the radio to drown out my thoughts, but every song seemed designed to mock me. Love songs about second chances. Breakup songs about letting go. I switched it off and drove in silence, my hands tight on the wheel.

---

When I arrived at Carter Industrial's headquarters on Monday morning, Samuel was waiting in my office with a stack of documents requiring my signature, as well as a schedule that would keep me in meetings until well past dinner.

"Welcome back," he said, and I could see him trying to read my face. "How's William?"

"Good." The word came out clipped. "He's good. Growing."

"And Lily—I mean, Ms. Parker—"

This is the problem with having an assistant who's also a friend, I thought bitterly. You ask him once how to make things right with your wife, and suddenly he thinks he has the right to check on your feelings after the divorce.

"She has him Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays," I said, cutting him off. "Nine to six. As per the agreement."

Samuel nodded slowly. "Right. Of course." He hesitated. "Ryan, if you need to take some time—"

"I don't." I sat down at my desk and pulled the first document toward me. "What's first?"

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he knew better. "Board meeting at nine. Then the quarterly budget review at two. The legal team needs sign-off on the merger documents by four. And you have that conference call with the Tokyo office at six—"

"Fine. All fine." I was already scanning the document, not really reading it. Just looking at words. Letting them fill my vision so I didn't have to think about the fact that at this exact moment, Lily was probably in her office at NexGen, surrounded by her team, building the life she'd chosen over me.

The life she was better off living.

The day passed in a blur of meetings and decisions that all felt equally meaningless. I nodded at the right times, signed the right documents, said the right things to make people think I was present. But inside, I was calculating hours.

Lily's probably having lunch now. She always eats at her desk when she's focused on a project. She'll have forgotten to drink enough water. She does that.

William's naptime. He sleeps better in the afternoon. The nurse knows to keep the room dark and play that white noise app Lily found.

If I were still married, I could call her right now. Just to hear her voice. Just to ask how her day was going.

But I wasn't married anymore. And calling her would violate the careful distance she'd asked for.

Please don't make this harder than it already is, she'd said.

So I didn't call.