Was that… really how it was?
The so–called “old feelings” he’d once had for Sophie had long since worn away.
Time had ground them down until only guilt from the past remained, and a warped sense of duty
-the belief that the strong must protect the weak–kept sticking around.
But the woman he truly couldn’t let go of, the one who had woven herself into the quiet fabric of his life, was Evelyn.
She was the one who left a light on for him, who awkwardly mixed a Hot Toddy, who lit up with a
smile that made it look as if his smallest kindnesses gave her the whole world.
A tidal wave of regret crashed over Graham and swallowed him in an instant.
Sophie, shattered by his words, went pale. Her lips trembled as if she were seeing him for the first time. “You… Graham… how could you say that… you…”
“Get out,” Graham said without looking at her, his voice exhausted and ice–cold, absolute in its
finality. “Don’t come back. I’ll have someone escort you out of Evermont.”
“No! I’m not leaving! Graham, you can’t do this to me!” Sophie screamed, lunging for his arm.
He shrugged her off without hesitation and hit the call button.
His aide, Frank, stepped in right away.
“Escort her out,” Graham ordered, clipped and ruthless. “And arrange for Ms. Monroe to leave
Evermont as soon as possible. Send her where she belongs.”
Sophie’s legs emptied out beneath her. She collapsed to the floor and began to sob hysterically until Frank “escorted” her away.
The world became still.
And then it fell apart.
With Sophie gone, the office held only Graham. A deathly silence settled over the room.
He shuffled to his desk and, with trembling fingers, picked up the only thing Evelyn had left behind a worn black hair clip, forgotten on the table.
He clenched the cold metal as if it were a lifeline.
The realization slammed into him like a long–overdue verdict: he had grown used to her chatter
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filling the house, to coming home to warm food, to those eyes that always tracked him with admiration and dependence.
The kindness he had shown–those obligations he’d told himself were his duty–had quietly changed into something deeper.
It had become part of his life, something carved into his bones: the proof of a love he hadn’t
known he felt.
And he had been blind.
Chasing a hollow obsession from the past, he had hurt her again and again, ignored her, and- when she needed him most–abandoned her without a second thought.
He had destroyed his real present and any future he might have had.
Graham slammed his fist down on the hardwood desk. The skin split. Blood trickled, but he didn’t
feel the pain.
Panic and despair gripped him like cold hands around his throat. He could hardly breathe.
His wife–his Evelyn–was gone because of him.
Like a man possessed, he barreled out the door and roared at Frank, “Get the car! Now!”
He canceled all nonessential appointments and tore through the city in his olive–green Jeep, a
madman on a desperate search.
He drove from town to town, checked every airport, clutching Evelyn’s photo and asking anyone who would listen, “Excuse me–have you seen this woman? She’s my wife. She’s missing.”
From Evermont to Willowbrook, from Willowbrook to Grendale, he kept going.
Wind and sun beat at him. He ate irregularly; he shrank away. His eyes hollowed and his stubble
grew ragged, but those eyes burned with a terrifying intensity–fueled by regret and refusal to
give up.
An old war buddy, hearing of his state, tracked him down and tried to intervene.
“Graham, what the hell are you doing? Throwing away your work for a woman? Is she worth it? If
she cared about you, she’d come back on her own!”
Graham snapped his head up, eyes rimmed red. His voice was raw and cracked but fixed with
furious conviction.
“She’s my wife. I’ve lost her. I have to bring her back. She’s out there alone–so fragile–she
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doesn’t know how to fend for herself. I have to find her. I will find her.”
Chapter 14
