The first week without her, Damien didn't sleep.
Didn't eat.
Didn't leave the penthouse.
He just sat in the dark living room, staring at the door, waiting for her to come back.
She didn't come back.
---
Marco found him on the eighth day.
The penthouse was dark. The curtains were drawn. The air smelled like whiskey and silence.
"Damien."
No response.
"Damien."
"I heard you."
"Have you eaten?"
"No."
"Have you slept?"
"No."
"Have you done anything?"
"I've been waiting."
Marco walked to the window. Pulled open the curtains.
Sunlight flooded the room.
Damien flinched.
"She's not coming back," Marco said.
"She always comes back."
"She didn't come back this time."
---
Damien stood.
Walked to the window.
Looked out at the city.
"Where is she?"
"With her sister. In Verona."
"Is she safe?"
"Yes."
"The baby?"
"Healthy. Growing. She had a checkup yesterday."
Damien was quiet for a moment.
"Who took her?"
"Her sister. Her driver. Her guards."
"My guards."
"Her guards now."
---
He turned to face Marco.
"I want them back."
"They won't come."
"Then I want new ones."
"She won't accept them."
"Then I'll put them there anyway."
Marco stepped closer.
"She's not your prisoner, Damien. She's the mother of your child. And if you want any chance of getting her back, you need to give her space."
"Space?"
"She asked for freedom. Give it to her."
"Freedom to do what?"
"Freedom to miss you."
---
The second week was harder than the first.
Not because Damien missed her less.
Because he started to forget.
The sound of her voice. The way she laughed. The way she said his name when she thought he was sleeping.
He tried to hold onto the memories.
But they slipped through his fingers like water.
---
He called her on the fifteenth day.
She didn't answer.
He called again.
She didn't answer.
He called a third time.
"Hello."
His heart stopped.
"Christabel."
"Damien."
"How are you?"
"I'm fine."
"The baby?"
"Fine."
A pause.
"Why are you calling?"
"I wanted to hear your voice."
"You're hearing it."
"It's not enough."
"It has to be."
---
He closed his eyes.
Pressed the phone tighter against his ear.
"Come home."
"I am home."
"Come back to me."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I need to remember who I am without you."
"You're the mother of my child."
"I'm more than that."
"I know." His voice cracked. "That's why I need you."
---
She was quiet for a long moment.
The line hummed between them.
"I'll call you next week," she said.
"Christabel—"
"I'll call you next week."
She hung up.
Damien stared at the phone.
She had called him.
Not the other way around.
She had said she would call.
That was something.
That was hope.
---
The third week, she didn't call.
Damien waited.
By the phone. By the door. By the window.
Nothing.
He called Marco.
"Is she okay?"
"She's fine."
"The baby?"
"Fine."
"Then why hasn't she called?"
"Maybe she's not ready."
"When will she be ready?"
Marco was quiet.
"I don't know."
---
The fourth week, Damien left the penthouse.
Not because he wanted to.
Because Marco made him.
"There's a situation," Marco said.
"What kind?"
"The kind that requires your attention."
"Handle it yourself."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because it's about her."
---
Damien went to the meeting.
It was in a warehouse on the other side of the city. The same warehouse where they had fought together. Where she had killed for the first time.
The men were waiting.
"We know where she is," one of them said.
"Everyone knows where she is."
"We know when she's alone."
Damien went still.
"When is she alone?"
"Tuesdays. Her sister takes the baby to physical therapy. She stays home."
"How do you know this?"
"We have eyes on her."
"Who?"
The man smiled.
"That's not how this works."
---
Damien stood.
Walked around the table.
Stood behind the man.
"I'll ask you one more time. Who is watching her?"
The man didn't answer.
Damien pulled out his gun.
Pressed it against the back of the man's head.
"Last chance."
"Her guards."
"My guards?"
"Her guards. The ones who used to work for you. They're not loyal anymore."
"To who?"
"To her."
---
Damien lowered the gun.
Stepped back.
"How much?"
"Excuse me?"
"How much to make them loyal again?"
The man laughed.
"You can't buy loyalty. You can only earn it."
"And she earned it?"
"She paid them more than you. She trusted them more than you. She treated them like people, not like tools."
"She's pregnant."
"They're protecting her because they want to. Not because they have to."
---
Damien left the meeting.
Walked out of the warehouse.
Stood in the rain.
He had built an empire on fear.
And she had dismantled it with kindness.
---
The fifth week, she called.
"Damien."
"Christabel."
"I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"About us. About the baby. About what comes next."
"And?"
"And I think we need to talk. In person."
"Where?"
"Verona. The old town square. Tomorrow. Noon."
"I'll be there."
"Come alone."
"I will."
"Promise?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"I promise."