The doorbell echoed through the marble hallways, followed by the patter of her feet against the polished floors. Kaito imagined her smile—soft, expectant, too trusting—as she rushed to greet him. But he wasn’t there.

Not really.

Only the letter was. That damned letter with the same cold elegance his secretary always used when she sealed it. The same note, different city.

The necklace he’d picked in Paris, gold and delicate, lay curled like a serpent in the velvet box. He’d told himself it would make up for it—again. She liked simple things, but gold was the language he’d learned to speak when words felt too heavy. And now, even the weight of gold didn’t seem to reach her anymore.

He stared at the message he sent her, rereading it.

"A gift for you. I have a meeting in Kuwait, so be a good girl and wait for me. Go shopping if you want. Use the card I gave you, okay?"

He knew she hated when he said “be a good girl.” It sounded like a leash, and maybe that’s what he needed—anything to keep her tethered to him while he played the part of the man who had everything but time.

Gucci, Prada, entire boutiques he’d told his staff to clear for her comfort, all lined up like silent apologies in glass windows. He could buy her the world, but not the one thing she asked for: him.

He leaned back in the leather chair aboard his jet, the Kuwait skyline still hours away. His fingers hovered over his phone, tempted to send another message. Something real this time. Something like “I miss you” or “I’m sorry.” But those words stayed caught in his throat like bone splinters.

She didn’t want his empire.

She just wanted the man before it.

And Kaito wasn’t sure he knew how to be that man anymore.

Not when the silence between his messages and her replies felt louder than the roar of any engine.

Not when the woman despite the fact their marriage was a lie built on a contract whom he loved stood on the other side of the world, looking at an empty doorstep with love in her eyes and a hollow in her heart.