Chapter 41

Mila

The space beside me was cold, sheets already straightened like he’d never been there. Typical Lance… except it wasn’t. Not after last night. Not after the nightmare. Not after the name that slipped from his lips like a wound ripping open.

Maxie.

I pushed myself up slowly, wincing at the soreness in my lips from his bite. My lips felt tender, swollen. My whole body felt… well, I didn’t want to think too deeply about that.

The house was quiet as it always is especially in the mornings.

I wrapped a robe around myself and walked downstairs, hoping...maybe stupidly...to see him in the dining room or the kitchen or just anywhere so we could pretend to ignore each other like normal.

He wasn’t there.

Only Emily, the maid I was closest to, stood at the counter rinsing dishes. She looked up the moment I walked in.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

Her voice was soft, nervous. Not the usual nervous she had around Lance. This one was… different.

“Emily,” I called out, easing into a chair. “Please tell me you have coffee.”

She nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll bring it right away.”

While she filled the mug, my mind was all over the place.

Emily was kind. Quiet. Always looking like she wanted to run but stayed anyway. And if anyone in this house knew a fraction of the truth behind Lance’s nightmares… it was probably her, she once told me she has been here for a long while.

She set the mug in front of me.

“Emily,” I said carefully, wrapping my fingers around the warm cup. “Did you… see Lance this morning?”

Her hand froze on the tray. “Yes, ma’am.”

I swallowed. “What time?”

“Very early.” She lowered her voice. “Before sunrise.”

My chest tightened. “Did he… say anything?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Did he look upset?”

Emily hesitated, eyes flicking toward the hallway like she expected him to appear at any second.

“He looked… tired. And angry. But quiet.”

Quiet.

That was worse.

Quiet meant controlled.

Controlled meant dangerous.

“Did he mention where he was going?” I pressed.

“He left for a trip, ma’am.”

“A trip?” I blinked. “What trip?”

“I don’t know the details,” she whispered. “He told the driver and the guards he’d be gone for some days or longer. He didn’t say when he’d return.”

A sting hit my chest but I kept my voice steady.

“And he didn’t say a word to me.”

“I don’t think he wanted you to worry,” she offered weakly.

I almost laughed. “He doesn’t care if I worry.”

Emily didn’t respond.

I leaned back, staring at the untouched coffee. I hated how disappointed I felt. How irritated. How stupidly… abandoned.

Why did he leave without saying anything?

Why did part of me expect something different after last night? It was just like every other night just to fulfill the contract

I exhaled and looked at Clara again.

“Clara… can I ask you something? And please be honest with me.”

Her spine went rigid. “I’ll try, ma’am.”

“You’ve worked here for years, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve known Lance for years too?”

She nodded slowly.

“Who is Maxie?”

The tray nearly slipped from her hand.

Her eyes widened...fear, real fear, flashing across her face.

“M-Ma’am, I don’t think....”

“Please.” I leaned forward. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just… I heard him say the name. In his sleep. He was terrified.”

Emily's lips parted, but no words came.

I softened my tone. “Emily, I’m not going to repeat anything you tell me. I promise. I just want to understand him.”

She looked at the door again. Still paranoid.

Then she pulled out a chair and sat across from me, hands trembling slightly.

“Ma’am… some things in this house are better left untouched.”

“That’s not an answer.”

She inhaled shakily. “Maxie was… someone important to him.”

A sharp ache hit my stomach. “Important how?”

“I don’t know everything. I can't say....Nobody does. But we all knew Maxie mattered.” Emily twisted her fingers. “Pls kill your curiosity ma'am...i can't say more."

It explained the nightmares. The anger. The tightness in his voice whenever someone pushed him too far. The way he shut down last night, the moment I tried to speak.

“What happened to maxie?” I asked quietly.

Emily's eyes dimmed with something like pity.

“Mrs. Armstrong, please… don’t ask me that. If Mr. Lance finds out anyone spoke about it...”

“I won’t say anything,” I repeated.

“You don’t understand.” Her voice trembled. “He doesn’t have to find out from you. He just… knows.”

I frowned. “Knows what?”

“He knows when someone talks about it. It’s like he feels it. And he hates it. That’s why nobody...nobody....is allowed to mention that name.”

I went silent.

Her voice dropped again.

“He doesn’t even let the staff keep items from that period. He burned things. Cleared rooms. Removed photos. He doesn’t tolerate it.”

Burned.

Removed.

Erased.

My heart thudded.

“Who was Maxie to him?” I tried again, softer this time.

Clara shook her head rapidly. “I don’t know. Truly. I can't say, whatever it is....… that's the reason Mr. Lance became the way he is.”

I stared at her. “Cold?”

“I can't say more than that ,” she said a little jittery“

I swallowed hard.

“Emily….was Maxie related wife?”

Emily lifted her eyes to mine.

And just like that, I had my answer.

She didn’t need to speak.

The silence said it all.

I leaned back slowly. “So that’s why he reacted last night.”

Clara’s brow furrowed. “Reacted?”

I closed my eyes briefly.

“I said something terrible. Something about his late wife. I didn’t know her name. I didn’t even know the story. I just said it because I was angry.”

Clara swallowed. “And he heard you.”

“Yes.”

“Oh…” Her voice shook. “Then, ma’am… please be careful.”

“I know.”

“No, ma’am.” She leaned closer, urgency in her eyes. “I mean it. Don’t bring her up again. Don’t ask him. Don’t say her name. Don’t even think about it when he’s in the room.”

I blinked. “He can read minds now?”

“It’s not that.” She shook her head. “He just… he knows when someone is stepping near that memory. He changes. And it’s not safe.”

A chill swept down my spine.

“Not safe for… who?” I whispered.

Emily looked away.

“For anyone near him.”

The words sat heavy in the air.

I tried to digest everything but it didn’t fit. It didn’t make sense. It was too big, too vague, too dangerous sounding.

My voice softened. “Emily… the man I saw last night… in that nightmare… he wasn’t a monster. He was scared.”

“Fear can make people unpredictable,” she replied.

I rubbed my forehead. “Did he ever travel without telling anyone before?”

She nodded. “Many times....Sir is always like that.”

“And he doesn’t say where?”

“He doesn’t feel like he owes anyone explanations.”

“He owes me,” I muttered.

Emily hesitated. “Ma’am… with respect… he doesn’t know how to owe anybody anything anymore.”

I looked up sharply. “What does that mean?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

"Emily.”

“I—I have laundry to sort.” She stood quickly.

“Emily.”

She froze.

I lowered my voice. “If you know something about him… something important… please tell me. He’s my husband.”

Emily’s voice cracked as she whispered—

“And that is exactly why you should be careful.”

Then she hurried out of the kitchen before I could say anything else.

I sat there, staring at the doorway she disappeared through.

Lance had traveled without telling me.

Lance had a past with someone named Maxie.

And that past scared even the staff....people who had seen him at his worst.

I took a shaky breath.

Whatever came next…

I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.

But it was already heading toward me, fast.