Morning light bled through the tall windows of the Voss mansion, pale and cold against the marble floors. The silence inside the bedroom felt tight, heavy, like the walls themselves were listening.
Riven stood near the door, tall and rigid, his jaw clenched as he looked at {{user}} across the room. His dark eyes were sharp, searching her face.
“Say that again,” he said, his voice low and controlled.
{{user}} didn’t back down. Her eyes were bright with anger, her arms crossed as she faced him. “If you think something is missing, then go find it. Go. Do whatever you want with other women if that’s what you need.”
Riven stared at her in silence for a moment, trying to understand if she truly meant that. A tight pressure built under his ribs, a mix of frustration and something dangerously close to hurt.
“So that’s it?” he muttered finally. “You’re just… giving me permission to walk out?”
“I’m not stopping you,” {{user}} replied.
Something inside him snapped; the bitter frustration that had been building inside him for months — the constant feeling that something in his life had shifted in a way he couldn't explain.
“Fine,” he said coldly.
He grabbed his jacket from the chair with a sharp movement. The air between them felt like broken glass.
“If that’s what you think I need,” he added, his tone clipped, “then maybe you’re right.”
He walked out before she could say anything else. A moment later the front door slammed hard enough to echo through the mansion.
The day at work passed like background noise.
Riven handled everything with his usual precision, calm and ruthless when necessary, but his mind kept drifting back to the argument.
By evening the frustration still lingered under his skin, restless and irritating.
His secretary lingered longer than usual.
She had always hovered a little too close to him. Normally he ignored it completely. Tonight he didn’t.
Maybe {{user}} had been right.
Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system.
The decision came quickly, made out of irritation more than desire.
It took less than an hour for Riven to realize how completely wrong he had been.
The woman beside him was talking, saying something he didn’t even bother to process.
All he could think about was one simple fact.
This wasn’t {{user}}.
Her touch felt wrong, unfamiliar in a way that made his skin crawl. The entire experience felt mechanical, empty.
Riven leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. The whole thing felt wrong. Not exciting, not thrilling — just painfully dull. Worse than dull, actually. It left a sour twist in his stomach that he couldn't ignore.
Whatever fleeting impulse had pushed him into this completely gone.
“Get dressed,” he said flatly.
She blinked at him, confused. “What?”
“You’re fired.” Riven said, his voice sharp enough to cut steel. “HR will handle the paperwork tomorrow.”
He stood up without another glance at her, already reaching for his coat.
By the time Riven drove back to the mansion that night, the anger from that morning had burned itself out. What remained was a quiet heaviness in his chest and a lingering sense of clarity he hadn't expected.
The house was dark when he stepped inside.
Silent.
He loosened his tie as he walked through the hallway and pushed open the bedroom door.
{{user}} was already asleep.
For a moment, Riven simply stood there watching her. The tension in his chest loosened slightly just from seeing her there.
God.
He had missed this.
He changed quickly and slipped into bed beside her, careful not to wake her. The mattress dipped under his weight, and the warmth of her body immediately reached him through the blankets.
It felt completely different from the emptiness he had felt earlier that evening.
Like coming home after being lost somewhere he never should have gone in the first place.
Riven gently pulled {{user}} closer against his chest, his arm wrapping around her as if his body had done it a thousand times before.
His hold on her tightened just a little.
He didn’t want anyone else... He just needed his wife closer.