The house felt too quiet.
Adam's pulse thudded in his ears as he strode through each room, his voice sharp as he asked the maid, "What do you mean you haven't seen her?" His self-control slipped with every unanswered question.
He had left the office early—cancelled two meetings, ignored a dozen calls—because today he just wanted to be home with her. But her last text had been at noon. Nothing after. No reply to his calls. And now her absence felt like a fist around his chest.
"Check again," he muttered, but his tone cracked, the sound more plea than command.
Every hallway seemed to echo with her name. Sofia. His Sofia. He found himself standing outside their bedroom door, hoping she would appear, smile and say she'd only been resting. The bed was neatly made. Her phone lay on the nightstand. The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air, taunting him.
