Chapter 6

Elias's POV

One week later

Something was terribly wrong.

I walked in after a long, exhausting day to the sound of Isaac's cries echoing through the house. My son was strapped into his sitter, wailing his eyes out, with food smeared everywhere, on the floor, the walls, even across his tiny body. And the most alarming part? No one, not a single soul, was in the room with him.

I rushed over to him immediately, his cries faltering the moment he saw me.

"Heyyy, buddy. What's going on?" I cooed gently, scooping him up and patting his back. But instead of calming down, he cried even harder. His sobs grew more desperate, more panicked.

Where the hell was Maria?

Just then, his nanny came rushing in, looking frantic and scared out of her mind.

"What is happening? Where is his mother?" I asked, trying to keep the fury out of my voice. I was barely holding it together. Someone needed to start talking, and fast.

The nanny looked worse than I'd ever seen her, her forehead glistened with sweat, and her breathing was ragged.

"She... she stepped out," she stuttered, head bowed and body stiff.

"She stepped out," I repeated under my breath, barely able to comprehend it.

Isaac's cries didn't stop. Not even my presence was enough to soothe him. He needed his mother. And she had stepped out? Maria had left him alone?

That was something she had never done. Not once. This just added to the growing list of things that didn't make sense lately, of signs that something was off.

Something was definitely, undeniably wrong with Maria. And I was going to get to the bottom of it.

I quickly gave the nanny instructions; clean up the mess, prepare fresh food for Isaac. Then I carried my son to his room. I bathed him, dressed him in fresh clothes, fed him, and tucked him in beside me with his storybook. He finally drifted off to sleep, the last of his tears drying on his cheeks.

Once I was sure he was resting peacefully, I headed straight to Maria's room.

The moment I stepped in, I froze.

It was a mess.

Maria's room had never been messy. Even though I rarely entered when she was around—mostly because my self-control seemed to vanish in her presence, I had always snuck in when she wasn't there. Like a fool. Like a damn creep. I used to wander through her things, breathing in her scent, running my fingers over the fabrics of her clothes, imagining what it would be like to undress her slowly. I used to just... soak in everything that was her. Her warmth. Her presence.

But I couldn't do that today. Or yesterday. Or any day since that damn party last week. Because something had shifted. And it wasn't just in her.

I'd always been drawn to Maria. Being in the same room with her was enough to drive me mad with need. It was a miracle I hadn't lost control around her. But recently... that pull had dimmed. It was like she was still Maria on the outside, but something underneath was different. Unreachable.

Like during breakfast two days ago, she'd eaten her eggs first, then the bread, and completely ignored her coffee. That alone was strange. Maria always drank her coffee after her eggs, and she hated bread. The only reason she ever touched it was to please me. She'd usually nibble on a slice or two while pretending to enjoy it.

But that day, she devoured everything, eggs, bread, and even asked for more. No coffee. When I signed, asking her why, she froze. Her face turned red, and then she rushed to gulp the coffee like it was some kind of cover-up, disappearing to her room afterward.

And that incident was just one of many things that hadn't added up since that night.

I left her room in frustration. I couldn't feel her in there. Not the way I used to. And it was driving me insane.

My instincts had never failed me, that's why I was the most successful businessman in all of New York. I never made decisions unless I was one hundred percent sure. So when I say something is wrong, it is wrong.

I made my way to my office where Carla and a few of my men were already waiting for me.

"Is everything okay, boss?" Carla asked. No matter how many times I'd told him to call me Elias, he refused. He was older, someone I looked at like an older brother, but still, it was always 'boss.' I'd stopped trying to change it.

"Where's Mari?" I asked, sinking into my chair and clenching my jaw. Another headache was building, the same kind that had plagued me every day this past week. I couldn't get her strange behavior out of my head. I thought about her constantly. The way she used to laugh while playing with Isaac, the joy in her eyes, the lightness she carried when she thought no one was watching. That freedom she only allowed herself when I wasn't around.

I thought about her blue eyes, how they used to shine with desire when I caught her staring at me. And how she looked when I stared back. I knew she loved me. That had to be why she stayed, even after all my coldness. She didn't know I was a devil in disguise, that I was incapable of real love.

All I knew was that she was mine. I needed her like I needed air.

But lately, all of that had been drowned in the fog of her odd behavior. Her strange habits. Her growing distance. And I couldn't shake the question burning in my mind: What the hell is going on?

"Kola took her to the spa," Carla said, breaking through my thoughts.

"The spa?" I echoed, startled. "Since when does Mari go to the spa?"

Carla shrugged, giving me a pointed look. "So there's something, then?" he asked, his usual fatherly concern etched across his face.

I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated. Like he didn't want to say it.

"Spit it out, Carla," I snapped, my patience hanging by a thread.

He exhaled, then said it. "Mari looks... strange."

"How strange?" I asked, though the question was rhetorical. I knew exactly what he meant. I had the same thoughts. I just didn't want to admit them out loud.

"Strange like... she's smiling more. She looks happy. Earlier today, I heard someone laughing from her room. I thought it was odd, because, you know... she doesn't speak. So I went to check. Knocked on the door. She opened up. I asked if she was okay, or if she had laughed, and she just smiled at me, nodded... and then patted my cheek."

"She patted your cheek," I repeated, staring at him in disbelief.

He nodded.

I stayed silent, letting everything Carla said sink in. He was watching me closely, his brow furrowed with concern, eyes scanning my face like he was trying to read my thoughts.

"Is there something going on?" he asked gently.

"Call Kola," I said instead, my voice low but firm. "Tell him to bring Mari back home. Right now."

Carla nodded and quickly exited, leaving me alone to think, to finally piece together everything that had unfolded over the last week.

And yet, even as I went over every detail again and again in my head, I still couldn't pinpoint exactly what was going on.

I knew Maria wasn't happy with me. I had always known it. She wasn't content in our marriage, not truly. She wanted more from me, more than I'd ever given her. And I pretended not to notice. Not because I didn't want to give it to her, but because I couldn't.

I'd been so wrapped up in building this life for us. In making sure we stayed on top. I had business rivals who'd give their left lungs to tear down what I had bled and clawed to create. I was entangled in things no one else knew about. Dangerous things. Life-altering decisions and enemies that reached beyond the borders of New York.

And then there was the matter of the organ in my chest, it wasn't working right. Maybe it never had. Even though Maria was the only woman my heart had ever recognized, that was all it seemed to be capable of, recognizing her. Loving her fully, the way she deserved? That was another matter entirely.

Still, that recognition; that connection, was strong enough to tell me something was off. My wife was different. Something was wrong with Maria.

I tried to show her love in the ways I could. Gave her everything physical, money, luxury, gifts. I lavished her with attention anytime we were out in public because I knew how viciously jealous other women were of her. I wanted her to feel like she had it all.

But how could she believe that, when she wouldn't even speak to me?

God, how I longed to hear her voice. Just once. I wanted her to talk to me, complain, argue, say anything. Even if it was just to tell me she hated me. But Maria never did. She bore all my silence, all my flaws, all my emotional failures, without a single word.

I didn't know if it was because she didn't know how to complain, or if she had simply given up trying.

But despite it all, I knew one thing for certain, I would never let her go. I loved her the only way I knew how. I needed her more than I was willing to admit, more than I could survive without.

And whatever the hell was happening now, whatever was different, I was going to get to the bottom of it. No matter what.