Chapter 3

Dashiell stepped into the grand foyer, the silence echoing off the marble floor. The house felt strangely empty, devoid of the faint hum of Elodie’s presence that had become a familiar background noise over the past year. He hesitated, a sense of unease creeping into his gut. Her room, usually meticulously tidy, was bare. Drawers gaped open, half-packed clothes strewn across the floor. A single suitcase lay abandoned by the bed, its emptiness a stark contrast to the overflowing wardrobe that usually occupied the space. He picked up the cheque lying on the nightstand, the seven-figure sum making his jaw drop. A million dollars? Where had she gotten this kind of money? He remembered the day his mother, Miriam, had brought Elodie home. A quiet, unassuming girl with large, expressive eyes, she’d been hired as his private nurse after the car crash that had nearly shattered his life. Miriam had been desperate, willing to do anything to help her son recover. When the doctors had painted a bleak picture, Miriam, in her desperation, had offered Elodie a hefty sum of money to become his wife. Dashiell had overheard the conversation, shock and anger mixing with a bitter sense of defeat. He knew he could never attract Selene, the woman he truly loved, in his current state. He had agreed to the marriage, a hollow agreement fuelled by despair and a misplaced sense of obligation. But from the moment Elodie stepped into his life, she became a ghost in his own home. She diligently performed her duties, administering his medications, assisting with physical therapy, all the while keeping a respectful distance. He couldn’t deny that she was an excellent nurse, her gentle touch and unwavering dedication contributing significantly to his recovery. He recovered much faster than expected. Eight months after the accident, he ditched the wheelchair, the feeling of independence intoxicating. Then, like a beacon in the darkness, came the news that Selene was returning to Danning. Their rekindled romance painted his life with vibrant hues. He would meet Selene every chance he got, their stolen moments filled with laughter and a shared history. He knew it was time to end his charade with Elodie, to finally offer her a divorce and some form of compensation. But he hadn’t anticipated her being the one to initiate the break. The audacity of it stung, a challenge to his fragile sense of control. And the money, who did she think she was to walk away from such a fortune? A wave of curiosity, unfamiliar and unwelcome, washed over him. If not for money, why had she agreed to this strange arrangement in the first place? What was her story, the one hidden behind her gentle facade? He sat down on the edge of the bed, the cheque burning a hole in his pocket. For the first time, he saw Elodie not as a ghost in his home, but as a woman with her own desires, her own secrets. And for the first time, he felt a pang of something that resembled regret. He knew he couldn’t bring her back. But perhaps, just perhaps, he could understand why she chose to leave. He needed answers, not just for her, but for himself. He needed to know the woman he had shared a year of his life with, the woman who had walked away from a million dollars and the life she had seemingly craved. He found the butler polishing silver in the drawing room. ‘Alfred, where is Elodie?’ he demanded, his voice tight with suppressed fury. Alfred paused, his brow furrowed in confusion. ‘Mrs Kellan, sir? She left this morning, just after sunrise.’ Dashiell’s jaw clenched. ‘Left? Where did she go?’ Alfred shook his head. ‘I don’t know, sir. She didn’t say.’ Dashiell’s anger simmered. ‘Call her phone,’ he barked. Alfred retrieved his phone from the pocket of his waistcoat and dialled the number. They both listened intently as it rang, the silence punctuated only by the anxious thumping of Dashiell’s heart. Then, a voice answered. Not Elodie’s voice, but a man’s, gruff and unfamiliar. ‘Hello?’ Dashiell grabbed the phone from Alfred’s hand. ‘Who is this?’ he demanded. ‘This is John,’ the voice replied. ‘I found this phone in the trash this morning. Is it yours?’ Dashiell’s blood ran cold. The phone in his hand, the one he had given Elodie, the one that was supposed to tether her to him, was now in the possession of a stranger. *** While Dashiell wondered where on earth his ex-wife had disappeared off to, the Gulfstream touched down on the sun-drenched tarmac 450 miles away, the whirring of the engines fading into a gentle hum. As the door opened, Elodie stepped out, the warm Los Montical air washing over her like a long-lost embrace. Her brother Gabriel was waiting, a wide smile splitting his face. He swept her into a hug, his warmth a welcome contrast to the sterile environment she had left behind. ‘Welcome home, little sis!’ he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling. ‘Done playing nurse?’ Elodie chuckled, a hint of the old spark returning to her eyes. ‘I’m done with games, Gabe. Done with hiding. It’s time to get back to my life.’ Gabriel laughed again, the sound warm and inviting. He ushered her towards a sleek black limousine, its windows tinted to shield them from curious eyes. ‘First, a little checkup,’ he announced, slipping into the back seat beside her. Elodie rolled her eyes. ‘I thought we were going to a restaurant. I’m starving.’ ‘We will, after you’ve seen Doc Thorne.’ Elodie’s smile faded.