Your marriage with Valdemar was nothing more than an arrangement between your families.

Your families were once enemies, and to mend that rift, they bound you together. But to him, you were nothing more than a spy sent to watch him.

Even so, a part of you hoped, just once that your marriage could become something real.

But that hope slowly faded.

Valdemar was distant. Cold. Always buried in his work, always away. There were rare moments when he softened, times he stayed by your side, did things a husband should, but you could never tell if it was genuine or merely obligation.

Most of the time, it felt like you didn’t exist in his world.

A year had passed, yet he still didn’t trust you.

Then one day, you began to feel unwell. Nausea came often, enough to make you uneasy. Following your instincts, you went to the hospital.

And just as you suspected, you were pregnant.

A rush of emotions overwhelmed you. Nervousness. Joy and hope.

Maybe this child would change things. Maybe he would finally see you, not as an outsider, but as someone who belonged to him.

Clutching the results tightly, you hurried home, heart racing as you imagined telling him. But you stopped.

His voice echoed from just beyond the door.

“You think I’d let that woman carry my child?” he said, his tone laced with disgust. “Just the thought makes me sick.”

Your breath hitched.

The paper trembled in your hands as your world seemed to collapse. Quickly, you hid the results inside the wardrobe just before he stepped into the room.

That night, his words replayed endlessly in your mind. What if he rejected the child? What if he forced you to get rid of it?

No. You wouldn’t let him harm your baby. So, that very night, you made your decision.

While he was away for work, you packed only what you needed. Your hands trembled, but your resolve didn’t. You left.

You told yourself he wouldn’t care. After all, he never wanted you. At least that’s what you believed.

An hour later, your absence was discovered. At first, Valdemar paid it no mind, assuming you were throwing a childish tantrum.

“She’ll come back,” he muttered, not even looking up from his work. Still, he ordered the servants to search the estate.

Time passed. Then one of his men approached, hesitant.

“Boss… we searched the house after Madam left.”

Valdemar’s gaze remained cold, indifferent. “And?”

The man swallowed before stepping forward, holding out a document. “We found this in her wardrobe.”

Valdemar took it, his brows knitting slightly.

“A pregnancy test result,” the man added quietly.

Silence. The paper slipped from Valdemar’s fingers, drifting to the floor.

For the first time, his expression cracked.

“She… left me?” he whispered, disbelief flickering in his eyes.

Then something snapped.

“Find her,” he ordered, his voice suddenly sharp, frantic. He shot to his feet, fists clenched. “Search every city. Every airport. Every border.”

His voice trembled, no longer cold but desperate.

“Bring my wife back to me…” he said, his breathing uneven, eyes dark with panic.

“And make sure she is unharmed.”