My chest suddenly tightened, like someone had punched me in the ribs.
"Where'd she go?"
"Don't know. But..." Boris paused. "According to the maids, Harper only took one small suitcase. Packed with her old clothes. She left all the bank cards, jewelry, and the necklace Madam Olga gave her in your study."
Fuck.
I hung up and headed for the door.
"Kirill?" Genevie looked startled.
"Rest up." I kept walking without looking back. "Boris will arrange transport to the new place."
"Wait, where are you going?"
"Home."
I practically fled that hospital room.
The car tore through New York streets. I floored it, mind racing.
What did this mean? She was cutting ties? She thought this marriage was over?
A nameless rage burned in my chest.
Who the hell did she think she was? What gave her the right to do what she did and then just walk away like it was nothing? She thought leaving a few cards and some jewelry erased her crime?
She was my wife. Whatever she'd done, whatever she wanted—she was my wife.
And she wasn't going anywhere until I said so.
The car screamed into the manor. I practically jumped out before it stopped.
"Kirill—" The butler tried to speak. I waved him off.
I charged upstairs and shoved open the bedroom door.
Empty.
The room still carried her scent, but she was gone.
Like she'd never lived here at all.
Like I'd never existed at all.
My chest started hurting. Sharp. Sudden. Made it hard to breathe.
I walked to the desk and saw the pile of bank cards and the necklace. Neatly stacked. Like some silent accusation.
Then I saw the pink envelope.
My hand shook as I picked it up.
This was the one she'd given me the day after our wedding. I remembered. I'd been dealing with the fallout from Genevie's divorce, and had no time for some card. I'd said "I'll look at it" and tossed it in a drawer.
Then forgot about it.
Now it sat under the cards and jewelry, like she'd left it there on purpose.
