Elijah regretted his words the instant they escaped his lips. It was as if he had opened a Pandora’s box of awkwardness, and there was no closing it now.
For someone who had always scorned jealousy-driven theatrics from women, he was baffled to realize that, deep down, he almost wanted Elizabeth to react with a flash of possessiveness.
Elizabeth found his audacity laughable. “Oh, that’s rich. When you and Sandra paraded around in public like some royal procession, humiliating me every step of the way, you told me to ‘be mature’ and ‘understanding.’ Now, with Scarlett—who’s nothing more than a delusional fangirl—I let it slide, and you think it’s because I don’t care about you? Are you hearing yourself right now?”
She had reached her limit. The days of biting her tongue were behind her. From now on, she vowed to speak her mind.
Elijah tugged at his collar, irritation bubbling to the surface. “Why do you always bring up Sandra?”
It wasn’t just her biting words that got under his skin; it was the reflection they forced him to confront.
Control had always been his forte.
Yet, their marriage was drifting further from reason with each passing day. Even he didn’t recognize himself anymore.
Elizabeth caught his gaze and smirked.
Of course, the moment Sandra’s name entered the conversation, he leapt to her defense. Typical.
As her thoughts drifted back to the night before, Elizabeth couldn’t help but marvel at the paradox that was Elijah. How could someone’s emotions and actions be so fundamentally at odds?
She had always believed intimacy should be an extension of love—a flame ignited by mutual respect and genuine connection. Without that, it was nothing more than raw instinct.
And yet, despite everything, the feelings she harbored for him lingered.
But at least she hadn’t let her heart—or her body—cloud her judgment.
Elijah waited for her to lash out with one of her trademark comebacks, but it never came.
When he finally glanced at her, he found her watching him with an icy, piercing stare.
Their eyes locked for a moment. Then, just as swiftly, she looked away.
“It’s all sorted now. I’ve got other things to handle.” She turned to Oliver, issued a brief instruction, and walked off without sparing Elijah another glance.
Frustration surged within Elijah, and with a sharp kick, he sent a stool careening across the room.
Oliver watched the scene unfold, his gaze flicking between Elizabeth’s retreating figure and Elijah’s storm-cloud expression. He sighed inwardly.
If Mr. Norris kept playing this game, it wouldn’t be long before he lost her for good.
In a villa district in Esterhall.
Daxton sat on a sofa, his usual warmth replaced by a chilling intensity.
His fingers drummed an almost hypnotic rhythm on the armrest.
“Esterhall has a population of a few hundred thousand,” he said. “And yet, after all these years, you still haven’t found him?”
A middle-aged man with a bulging belly stood nearby, his forehead glistening with nervous sweat.
He dabbed at his brow with a trembling hand, stammering, “M-Mr. Garcia, we’ve searched every piano teacher, every music shop owner, every bar pianist—anyone remotely connected to pianos. But none of them match the description…”
Daxton’s sharp gaze sliced through the man’s excuses. In a single, fluid motion, he grabbed a porcelain cup and hurled it at the man’s head.
“Fool! Who said he’d be making a living from playing the piano? You’ve been using that pitiful excuse for logic all these years! Is that why you’ve failed me over and over again?”
The man flinched but didn’t move, taking the blow squarely.
The cup shattered against his temple, sending shards scattering to the floor.
Blood and coffee dripped down his face as he muttered something unintelligible, but his fear kept him from speaking clearly.
Daxton leaned back, his hands steepled under his chin as he contemplated his next move. “Check every household that owns a piano! Dig into families who’ve purchased second-hand ones—find out exactly where they came from.”
The man’s face brightened with sudden inspiration. “Brilliant as always, Mr. Garcia!”
After a moment’s hesitation, he added tentatively, “The hotel recently diverted hot spring water from the mountains. Perhaps you’d like to stay and relax for a couple of days?”
Daxton hesitated, a melodious female voice ringing in his memory. Against his better judgment, he found himself agreeing. “Hmm.”
The man smiled, “I’ll have your private room prepared immediately!”
Daxton’s eyes flicked to the blood still trickling down the man’s face, and his expression twisted with disgust. “Clean yourself up. You’re an eyesore!”
The man acted as though he’d been absolved of all sins, bowing profusely as he retreated.
Left alone, Daxton pulled out his phone. He opened WhatsApp, his eyes hovering over the chat box for a long time. Then, he exited the app without typing a single word.
