Lucas Vale hated elevators. Not because he was claustrophobic or afraid of heights—he just couldn't stand the forced stillness. He stood in the private glass elevator of Vale Tower, hands shoved in his pockets, suit sharp as ever. The city stretched out below him, tidy and bright, every street in its place. Just the way he liked things—predictable, controlled, no surprises.
The floors ticked by, way too slow for his liking. Forty-six. Forty-five. Forty-four. He glanced at his phone—third time in less than a minute. Nothing. No texts, no calls, not even an email from his lawyers with Evelyn's name in the subject line. The screen stayed blank, stubborn as ever.
He frowned, thumb hovering, then locked his phone again. He knew it made no sense to feel this unsettled. Evelyn was never the clingy type. She didn't blow up his phone, didn't ask for attention or press him with questions that would drag him into emotional territory. That was just her way.
So why did the silence suddenly feel so different?
The elevator doors slid open. Lobby. "Good morning, Mr. Vale." He gave a curt nod to the front desk and kept moving, shoes tapping out a steady beat on the marble. The building buzzed with quiet purpose—staff moving quickly, security blending into the background, the whole place smelling faintly of money and ambition.
It all felt... normal. Exactly as it always had.
And yet—
"Did you hear? Mrs. Vale resigned from the foundation yesterday."
Lucas's steps faltered. Two junior employees, standing by the elevator bank, talking just loud enough. They hadn't seen him—had no idea they were gossiping within earshot.
"She didn't even show up for the farewell," one whispered. "Just sent a statement through her lawyers."
"Guess she really wanted a clean break from him."
A pause. Then, softer, "Ex-wife."
That word hit harder than he expected.
Ex-wife.
It echoed, slicing through layers of cool detachment he'd worn for years.
For so long, Evelyn had always come with his name attached—Mrs. Vale, Lucas's wife, the quiet one at his side during galas and dinners, always polished, always two steps behind.
Now—ex-wife.
Something cold settled in his chest.
The staff finally noticed him. Faces drained of color.
"M-Mr. Vale, we didn't—"
"Back to work," Lucas said, flat and sharp.
They scattered, quick and embarrassed.
He stood there a beat longer, staring past them as the building carried on, everyone careful to stay out of his way. He felt… off. Like someone had nudged the foundation of the world ever so slightly, just enough to make everything lurch sideways.
He didn't even know Evelyn had left the foundation.
She'd run committees, kept donors calm, ironed out problems before anyone else knew they existed. She was essential—quietly, but still.
And she hadn't told him.
That stung more than he wanted to admit.
Up in his office, Lucas shrugged off his coat and sat, his reflection cold and distant in the glass desktop. At least, that's how it was supposed to look.
"Anna," he said into the intercom.
"Yes, Mr. Vale?"
"Find Evelyn Hart's current address."
Silence. Too long.
"Mr. Vale… Ms. Hart requested full privacy after the divorce. Her address is sealed."
Lucas's brow knotted. "Since when?"
"Since the divorce finalized. She made the request herself."
Herself.
His jaw tightened.
He leaned back, fingers drumming once on the chair. Evelyn never asked for things like this. She never drew lines. Never shut him out.
He always knew where she was. Which events. Which charities. Which restaurants He just always knew.
He never thought she'd disappear entirely.
"Try again," he said, ice in his voice.
"I already did, sir. There's nothing available without her consent."
He hung up without another word.
His office felt too quiet, almost hollow.
He spun his chair to face the window, watching cars inch along below. His mind replayed what he'd overheard—employees talking about Evelyn like she was already just a footnote. Gone, just like that.
The rest of his day passed in a blur. Meetings he barely listened to, contracts he signed without really reading. Usually, he noticed everything—caught every detail.
Today, he kept glancing at the empty chair beside him in the boardroom.
Evelyn always used to sit there, silent, just watching. Later, she'd point out what he missed—subtle donor issues, PR problems, all the little cracks he overlooked.
Lucas frowned.
He ended the board meeting early.
By evening, he was driving—no destination in mind, just drifting through the city, knuckles white on the wheel. The streets rolled by, all those old landmarks blurring past. His brain circled the same truth over and over, the one he kept trying to ignore.
Evelyn didn't just walk out of the marriage.
She walked out on him.
His phone buzzed at a red light. For a second, his heart jumped. Maybe it was her. But no—just some system alert. He let out a sharp breath and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him.
She should have called by now.
He hated how quickly that thought showed up, how much it stung. She always called before.
The light switched to green. He pressed on, his irritation growing, mixing with something he didn't recognize. Something that felt a lot like unease.
Later, Lucas stepped into the heavy quiet of his mansion. The whole place felt off. Shadows stretched farther. The air was colder.
He yanked his tie loose and glanced toward the living room, just out of habit. No warm lamp. No hint of her perfume. No Evelyn curled up with a book, not waiting for him exactly, just making the house feel alive.
He stood there, stuck, longer than he needed to. And for the first time, the truth hit him, sharp and clear:
She wasn't waiting.
She wouldn't be.
Lucas Vale—always in control, always the one people looked to—felt something slip out of his grasp. And for once, he had no idea how to hold on to it.