Chapter 4 Mine Still

She didn't even look back not once. I watched her small frame disappear through the glass doors, the divorce folder clutched tight like it was the only thing holding her together. My chest tightened, but I ignored it. Weakness had no place in my world. I turned and sat back down. My office suddenly felt colder. The silence left behind by her was louder than her voice had ever been.

Leah, my wife, no longer my wife. I leaned back; eyes locked on the signature that stared up from the paper. Leah Carter De Luca. She still used my name. I should've felt free. This was what she wanted. What I gave her. But all I felt was rage. She was supposed to fight, Scream, cry and throw something at me. That's the Leah I remembered. But she didn't even flinch. Just signed it and walked out like I didn't exist. Like we never existed.

That wasn't the plan. I stood and walked to the bar cabinet, pouring a drink. I didn't even like whiskey, but it burned enough to distract me. I drank it in one long gulp. She was mine. She still is. The way she sat across from me earlier, so quiet, so still... it made me angry. That wasn't my Leah. My Leah had fire. This version? Silent, numb and broken, it was my fault, but I couldn't fix her. Not now. Not yet.

I sat back at my desk, staring at the screen, but my mind replayed the way her hands shaking around the pen, how she blinked too fast, holding in tears. She didn't speak, not really. Just whispered that she didn't ask for this. She didn't have to. I had no choice. She was slipping away, and I did what I always do-control the narrative. End it before she could.

I told myself it was for her, but I lied. It was for me. To remind her who held the power between us. Because even now, divorced or not, I owned the pieces of her that mattered, her time her body, and her history. If she thought, she could walk away and find peace, she was wrong. I reached for my phone, opening the live camera feed of the building's front. There she was, still sitting at the curb, her knees drawn to her chest, hugging the folder like it was life itself. Her head bowed, unmoving.

My throat burned. I wanted to go to her. Pull her up. Carry her home. My home, but she made a choice today. She signed, and I needed her to remember that choice hurt me too even if she didn't know it. I locked the screen, leaned back, and closed my eyes. A knock interrupted the silence.

"Sir?" Marcus, my assistant, peeked in. "Ms. Russo is waiting in the lounge."

Of course she is.

I nodded, brushing a hand through my hair. "Tell her to wait. I'm busy."

"Yes, sir."

He left.

Bianca could wait.

Right now, my thoughts were tangled in the shape of a woman who used to be my wife, who used to smile when I touched her, who used to whisper my name in the dark like it was the only thing keeping her safe. She didn't smile anymore. Not since I ruined everything, but she didn't know the truth. Not yet. She thought the divorce meant something. That she was free. I let her believe it. For now, because when I take her back- and I will-there won't be any papers. No signatures. Just me. Her. And the truth she ran from. I leaned forward and opened my email. I pulled up the one labeled "For Leah." Just sitting there. I re-read the words I'd written weeks ago.

> "If I told you the truth, would you stay?

> If I showed you everything, would it break you more?"

I didn't hit send.

Instead, I typed a new message, no emotion and no warmth.

From: Alessio De Luca

To: Leah Carter

Subject: You left something behind.

Body: Come get it. Tonight.

I hit send. Let her think it was about a file. A jacket. Her phone charger. It wasn't. It was about control. I needed her near me again. In my space. To remind her that no matter what paper she signed, she still answered to me. I stood and looked out the window. Her taxi had arrived. She climbed in, slowly, folding in on herself like she didn't know how to exist anymore. Good. Let her fall apart because when I put her back together, I wanted her to know who did it. I turned away and walked to the private room behind my office. It was dim, quiet.

This was where I came when I didn't want to be CEO. Just a man. I stared at the photo on the wall-our wedding day. She wore white. I wore black. A lie wrapped in a promise. I never said "I love you." Not once. But I felt it, but I still do and soon, Leah would know. She would return to me-angry, broken, full of questions-and I would give her none of the answers. Not until she begged for them. The door behind me creaked. Marcus again.

"She left the building, sir. But... there's something you need to see."

I turned. "What?"

He walked in and handed me a phone. His hands were shaking. I looked at the screen. It was a photo of Leah sitting on the curb. Taken from across the street.

The caption read:

"She looks lonely. Easy to reach. Should I say hello?"

My blood ran cold.

Another message followed.

"You took your eyes off her, Alessio. Big mistake."

My jaw locked. The phone nearly cracked in my hand. Someone was watching her. Someone knew she was alone, and I let her go. I turned to Marcus, my voice low and sharp. "Find out who sent this."

"Yes, sir."

I pulled out my phone and called her. Straight to voicemail. I called again. Still nothing. Panic clawed at me, something I hadn't felt in years. She was mine, and someone was trying to touch what belonged to me. Not on my watch. I stormed out of the room, rage curling in my fists. Whoever it was... they'd just declared war and they had no idea who they were messing with.