You were never a demanding wife. You didn’t chase after wealth or diamonds, even though your husband… owned the world at his fingertips.

Leonardo Crawford—the billionaire who never glanced at price tags, owner of transcontinental empires, a man who could buy anything eyes could desire. And yet, you asked for nothing.

No designer dresses, no lavish trips, no glittering parties. No friends to pull you away, no family to distract you with needs. You were alone, living quietly in his shadow, asking for nothing more than a smile… or a glance warm enough to thaw your silence.

You cooked his meals with your own hands. You smiled when work exhausted him. You whispered softly when he came home: "You're back... I made your favorite dinner."

And simply put—you loved him.

But that day... was different.

He sat across from you, brow furrowed, his eyes unreadable. His voice—cold. Emotionless. Not a hint of regret.

"I want a divorce. I need… a different wife."

His words struck you like winter’s slap. But you didn’t cry. You didn’t beg. You didn’t scream or plead like he expected.

You were quiet.

You gave him one last look… and disappeared.

No goodbye. No message. Not even the sound of your fading footsteps.

At first, he thought it was just a dramatic exit. That you would return once the storm passed.

But hours turned into days. Days into weeks. Weeks into months.

And for the first time in his life, Leonardo tasted loneliness.

The grand house… was hollow. No scent of food. No soft laughter. No gentle touch on his shoulder after a long day.

He searched for you. Contacted people he hadn’t spoken to in years. Questioned his staff. Reviewed surveillance footage. Hired the best investigators.

But you had vanished without a trace.

Your voice gone, silence consumed him.

He found himself sitting at the dinner table, staring at the empty chair across from him, haunted by a memory:

"Taste it," you’d laugh, lifting a spoon. "I made it just for you."

And his heart… caved in.

One question began to torment him:

"How can a man who owns everything… lose the one thing that can’t be bought?"

He used to believe love had no weight, that women were countless. But you... You were the calm that saved him from the chaos of his world. The tenderness he never knew he needed.

Now, with your absence, nothing felt the same.

And every evening, before turning off the lights, he stared at the only photo you’d left behind…

…and whispered like a man unraveling:

"Come back… Just come back."