Ethan's POV
After Talia left, my eyes remained on the open door.
The silence stretched longer than it should have.
"Ethan?" Natasha's voice reached me. "Hey... are you okay?"
She shifted, trying to sit properly.
"You can get up now," I said calmly. "You seem fine."
She let out a small laugh. "My bad for slipping. Sorry."
My gaze hardened. "No need. I have a meeting. I hope you'll think about the project thoroughly."
She nodded, standing as I did.
"You can leave now," I added, already adjusting my jacket, deliberately ignoring the image of Talia's tear-stained face etched into my mind.
Natasha hesitated, then walked out.
It didn't matter.
At least, that's what I told myself.
When I reached downstairs, I noticed Petro near the entrance. My brows furrowed slightly, but before I could question it, my assistant stepped in.
"Sir, the party is waiting for you."
Work pulled me back instantly.
⸻
At 2 a.m., I was finally free.
Free from people, contracts, noise.
Exhaustion weighed heavy on my body, yet there was one thing left to deal with.
Talia.
The elevator carried me to the top floor. My reflection stared back—controlled, unreadable, untouched by guilt.
As I reached our room, my hand lifted to knock.
I stopped.
A mocking smile tugged at my lips.
Was I really about to knock?
Since when did I become a gentleman for Talia?
A quiet laugh escaped me as I pushed the door open.
Cold air rushed toward me.
The balcony doors were wide open, curtains thrashing violently. The bed was wrinkled. The room smelled empty. The door hadn't been locked.
Something felt wrong.
"Talia?" I called.
Silence.
"She must be in the bathroom," I muttered.
I checked.
Nothing.
I walked toward the closet—and froze.
Her side was empty.
No dresses. No shoes. No perfume bottles. Just bare shelves and empty hangers.
My jaw clenched.
"Aymen!" I shouted.
He rushed in. "Yes, sir?"
"Where is the lady of the house?"
He hesitated. "Sir... she—"
My phone rang.
I raised my hand sharply. "Don't say a word. This call is important."
Las Vegas.
A high-stakes meeting. The land deal I had been fighting for months.
"I'll be there by tomorrow," I said before ending the call.
Anger burned through me.
This Talia.
"Aymen," I ordered, "pack my suitcase."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll return next week." My voice dropped. And about Talia...
She thought she could leave without consequences?
She would regret this.
But first—business came before her.
Always.
I dialed a number.
"Ben," I said, "prepare the private jet. We're leaving immediately."
"Understood, sir."
As the call ended, my eyes drifted back to the empty room.
The silence felt louder than her presence ever had.