Vanished Hearts

Alexander

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The plush carpet muffled my footsteps as I entered the hotel lobby, the controlled chaos of my security team moving around me. Esmeralda was here—I could feel it, the same way I'd always felt her presence even in the largest crowds.

"Third floor," James confirmed. "She's moving fast, possibly toward the suites."

I took the stairs two at a time, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. Anger. Longing. Betrayal. The image of her tonight—the way she looked at me, the way she stiffened under my touch—played on repeat in my mind. She was still my wife. The thought burned like a brand, a truth she couldn't erase no matter how far she ran.

The hallway stretched out before me as I reached the third floor, my gaze locking on a flash of emerald disappearing around the corner. She was running, but I was right behind her.

***

The soft hum of the elevator was the only sound as I stood, motionless, on the third floor of the Blackwood Plaza Hotel. The tension coiled in my chest felt suffocating, each step bringing me closer to her. Esmeralda was here. She had to be.

James's updates buzzed in my earpiece, each one stoking the fire of my frustration.

"Third floor," he'd said. "She's headed toward the suites."

I reached her supposed suite in seconds, my fist colliding with the door before I even registered the action.

"Esmeralda," I barked, the name heavy on my tongue, laden with three years of anger, longing, and unanswered questions. My knuckles whitened against the polished wood. "Open the door!"

Silence answered me. Not even a shadow moved under the door's frame.

My breath came harder now, frustration mounting as I leaned against the doorframe, pressing my forehead against the cold wood. "You can't keep running," I murmured, the words half plea, half warning. My voice softened, betraying the raw ache beneath my anger. "Three years, Esmeralda. You owe me an explanation."

Still nothing.

A low curse escaped me as I stepped back. The silence on the other side of the door felt louder than any confrontation. She was gone—or maybe she'd never been here in the first place.

"Sir," James's voice crackled in my ear, "we've got movement on the service elevator. East wing. She's moving. Likely heading toward the loading dock."

I turned sharply, my pulse spiking. She was running again. Always running. But this time, she wouldn't escape so easily.

The stark utility corridors of the hotel were a far cry from the opulence of the ballroom. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, their unflattering glare only fuelling my growing anger.

"She's fast," James reported, his tone clipped. "Using service routes to avoid detection. Should I intercept?"

"No," I snapped, my stride quickening. "Just track her."

The thought of anyone else reaching her first made my stomach churn. She was my wife, dammit. Mine to confront. Mine to... God, I didn't even know anymore. The emotions tangled within me—anger, relief, desperation—were a tempest I couldn't seem to quiet.

I caught a glimpse of emerald silk in the corner of my vision, disappearing down a stairwell. My heart leapt, my legs moving faster than my thoughts.

"East wing stairwell," James confirmed, his voice sharp. "Destination: loading dock."

I took the stairs two at a time, the distance between us closing. But when I reached the loading dock door, I froze.

****

The night air was crisp as I burst onto the loading dock. The distant hum of a car engine caught my attention, and I turned just in time to see a dark sedan pulling away. Through the tinted windows, I thought I saw a flash of emerald silk, the faintest outline of her face.

"Sir," James said behind me, his tone cautious. "Le Montague arranged the car. He's helping her."

The revelation hit like a punch to the gut. Julian. Of course, it had to be him. That smug bastard had been circling her all night, offering her an escape she clearly intended to take.

I stepped forward, fists clenching at my sides. The car was gone, swallowed by the city lights, and with it, Esmeralda.

"Track them," I ordered, my voice a low growl. "Find out where they're headed."

"Understood," James said, already moving.

For a moment, I stood alone on the empty loading dock, the shadows of the city stretching out before me. She was gone. Again. But this time, the anger in my chest was accompanied by something darker, something heavier.

She had run before I could say everything I needed to. Before I could tell her the truth—the truth she clearly didn't want to face. That I'd never signed the divorce papers. That no matter how far she ran, no matter how much time passed, she was still mine.

And this time, I wouldn't let her slip away so easily.

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