The echo of the door slamming still rang in Victor's ears long after Élise had gone. The penthouse, usually filled with the soft hum of discreet staff, felt hollow—oppressively quiet. He stared at the space she had just vacated, as though expecting her to reappear any second, furious and teary-eyed, ready to forgive like before.
But this time was different. This time, she hadn't looked back.
Victor Laurent, billionaire CEO of Laurent Industries, was not a man accustomed to loss. He conquered, acquired, won. Negotiations bent to his will. Competitors bowed or broke. Even Élise, at the beginning, had been swept away by his relentless charm and control.
Now, her absence was a void too wide for logic to explain.
**
Three hours earlier...
Élise's fingers trembled as she zipped the last of her suitcases. Each movement felt like a battle against her own fear. Camille's voice echoed in her head: "Don't wait until he breaks you completely. You deserve to breathe again."
And Élise wanted to breathe—deep, healing breaths, without the weight of Victor's shadow at every step.
She had left her wedding ring on the mahogany dresser, right beside the bouquet of roses he had sent that morning—out of habit, not love. Always red, always perfect, always meaningless now.
Her heels clicked across the marble floor as she passed the grand piano he never played, the cold sculptures she never liked, the photo frames filled with public smiles and private voids.
Victor had come home early that day, which wasn't like him. His usual ritual of late-night returns and business calls from Tokyo or Zurich had morphed into calculated absence. Now, for once, he stood by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, wearing the expression of a man who'd lost control of a deal.
"You're really going through with this?" His voice was calm. Too calm.
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Yes."
"No discussion. No compromise."
"You've had years to compromise, Victor," she replied, holding his gaze. "You chose power. I choose peace."
His jaw clenched. "You're making a mistake, Élise."
"No," she said quietly. "Staying was the mistake."
And with that, she walked out.
**
Back in the penthouse, Victor sank into the nearest chair, unable to reconcile the ache building in his chest. What had just happened? Élise had always been quiet, patient, poised. She'd never raised her voice, never confronted him like this. She had slipped away from him like water through his fingers—and he had never even noticed she was drowning.
He picked up her ring, turning it over between his fingers like it was a foreign object. Heavy. Cold. Final.
The sound of the city buzzed below, uncaring. He should be on a call with a South Korean investor right now. He should be planning next quarter's expansion. But instead, he sat there, haunted by the last look in her eyes.
Not anger.
Not pain.
Disappointment.
**
Downtown, in a modest hotel suite, Élise stared at the unfamiliar room. Beige walls, simple furniture, no security system. No staff at her beck and call. Just silence and the dull throb of her emotions.
She had thought she'd feel lighter. Free. But instead, there was a strange hollowness inside her. Grief, perhaps, for the woman she had tried so hard to be.
Her phone buzzed.
Camille: "Are you okay? Did you leave?"
Élise: "I left."
Three dots blinked for a long time.
Camille: "Proud of you. Call me if it gets too heavy. I'm here."
Élise turned off her phone and lay on the bed fully clothed. For the first time in years, no one would demand anything of her tonight. No dinner parties to host. No fake smiles for shareholders' wives. No icy glances from a husband who had become a stranger in a tailored suit.
And yet, the tears came—hot and silent, soaking the pillow.
**
The next morning, the Laurent divorce hit the tabloids like a bombshell.
"Power Couple No More: Victor and Élise Laurent Separate After 7 Years"
"Inside the Cold Marriage of a Billionaire CEO"
"What Went Wrong? Sources Say She Just Disappeared"
Victor stared at the headlines, jaw tight. PR had been swift. His assistant had released a neutral statement: "Mr. and Mrs. Laurent are parting ways amicably and request privacy during this transition."
Lies.
There was nothing amicable about the empty space she left in his life.
He turned off the tablet and picked up his phone.
"Get me Markson. I want a trace on Élise's financial activity—hotels, transactions, anything. Quietly."
"Sir—"
"Don't argue. Just find her."
He wasn't ready to admit it, but something visceral had shifted inside him. This wasn't about control. It wasn't even about image anymore. It was about the simple, terrifying truth:
He missed her.
Her voice. Her silence. Her soft scent lingering in their sheets.
He missed knowing she was there, even when they didn't speak.
**
At a small café across town, Élise sipped her coffee and watched the world rush by. Without makeup, wearing jeans and a sweater, she blended into the crowd like never before.
She liked it.
For once, she didn't have to impress anyone.
A woman beside her leaned over and whispered, "Are you... Élise Laurent?"
Élise blinked. "Not anymore," she said softly.
The woman smiled and turned away, leaving her with that strange, liberating feeling again.
But when she returned to her hotel room, a shiver ran down her spine. Her door was slightly ajar.
She stepped back, cautious. A cleaning sign hung on the knob, but she hadn't requested service.
Her heart thudded as she stepped inside.
Nothing appeared disturbed. Her clothes still in place. The suitcase still closed.
But on the desk, there was a single white envelope.
No name.
No seal.
Inside, one sentence handwritten in Victor's distinctive, sharp script:
"Wherever you go, you'll still be mine."
**
Victor sat at his office, staring at his phone. He hadn't planned to write that note. It had come out in a rush of desperation. But now, guilt crawled up his spine.
You'll still be mine.
What had he meant?
Ownership? Possession?
No. Not anymore.
He wanted her to be his—but not in a cage. He wanted to fight for her, not control her.
But old habits died hard.
A knock at his office door interrupted his spiral. His younger brother, Lucas, walked in unannounced, his smirk already loaded with sarcasm.
"So," Lucas drawled, dropping a tabloid on the desk. "The Queen left the castle."
Victor didn't respond.
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "You let her go. That's new."
"I didn't let her go," Victor said through clenched teeth. "She left."
"Semantics," Lucas shrugged. "She finally realized she was just another asset in your portfolio?"
Victor shot him a deadly glare. "What do you want?"
"To offer my... condolences. And remind you that when you lose your queen, the board gets shaky. Investors are nervous. They're wondering what's next."
Victor stood. "If you came here to gloat—"
"I came here to warn you," Lucas interrupted, eyes glinting. "You think this is just about a woman. But Élise was your shield. Your softness. The part that made people believe you were still human. Without her?" He smirked. "You're just another billionaire with a cold brand."
Victor's silence was answer enough.
**
That night, Élise stared at the city lights from her hotel window. The note burned in her handbag.
Had he found her?
Was this a threat... or a cry for help?
Her stomach churned. Not just from anxiety.
She'd been feeling nauseous for days now.
She closed her eyes, then opened her bag and pulled out a calendar.
Counting.
Breath caught.
Late.
Very late.
Her heart slammed in her chest.
No. It couldn't be.
But she knew her body. And her gut had never lied to her before.
She grabbed her coat, keys, and rushed out. A pharmacy glowed like a lighthouse down the street.
Five minutes later, she held a test in trembling hands in the tiny restroom.
Waiting.
Breathing.
The result appeared fast.
One line... then two.
Two.
Élise sat down hard on the toilet seat, her hands covering her mouth.
She wasn't just running from a past.
She was carrying a future.
His child.
End of Chapter 2
**
Hook for Chapter 3: "The Weight of the Test"
Her freedom had just begun. But inside her, a new bond was already forming—one that neither time, nor anger, nor even Victor himself could ever erase.
________________________